t 


1 


THE    Fl'NNY    <>!.r>   (iKXTLKM  AN.  —  Png-c  2r,. 


UTTLE  PRljUV'S  SISTER  SUSIE, 


LITTLE  PEUDY  SEKIES, 


SISTER    SUSY. 


SOPHIE    MAY. 


BOSTON : 

LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 
NEW  YORK: 

LEE,  SHEPARD  &  DILLINGHAM,  49  GREENE  STREET. 


littered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

LEE    &    SHFPARD, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  .-curt  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


ILECTROTTPED  AT  TH» 
BOSTON  STEREOTYPE  FOUSDBT. 


-PZ.J 


LITTLE 


KATIE    CLARKE. 


BOOK   i  sr   FOR    YOU,   KATIE, 


WITH    THE    LOVE    OF    YOUR 


AUNTIE. 


(3) 


SOPHIE  MAY'S 
LITTLE    FOLKS'    BOOKS. 

Any  volume  sold  separately. 

DOTTY  DIMPLE  SERIES.  -  Six  volumes.   Illustrated. 

Per  volume,  75  cents. 
Dotty  Dimple  at  her  Grandmother's. 
Dotty  Dimple  at  Home. 

Dotty  Dimple  out  West. 

Dotty  Dimple  at  Play. 

Dotty  Dimple  at  School. 

Dotty  Dimple's  Flyaway. 

FLAXIE   FRIZZLE   STORIES.  -  Six  volumes.    Illus- 
trated.   Per  volume,  75  cents. 

Flaxie  Frizzle.         Little  Pitchers.  Flaxie's  Kittyleen. 

Doctor  Papa.  The  Twin  Cousins.        Flaxie  Growing  Up. 

LITTLE    PRUDY    STORIES. -Six   volumes.     Hand- 

somely  Illustrated.    Per  volume,  75  cents. 
Little  Prudy. 

Little  Prudy's  Sister  Susy. 

Little  Prudy's  Captain  Horace. 

Little  Prudy's  Story  Book. 

Little  Prudy's  Cousin  Grace. 

Little  Prudy's  Dotty  Dimple. 

LITTLE   PRUDY'S   FLYAWAY   SERIES. -Six 

volumes.    Illustrated.    Per  volume,  75  cents. 
Little  Folks  Astray.  Little  Grandmother. 

Prudy  Keeping  House.  Little  Grandfather. 

Aunt  Madge's  Story.  Miss  Thistledown. 


LEE  AND  SHEPARD,   PUBLISHERS, 
BOSTON- 


PREFACE. 


HERE  is  a  story  about  the  oldest  of  the  three 
little  Parlin  girls,  "  Sister  Susy ; "  though  so 
many  things  are  always  happening  to  Prudy 
that  it  is  not  possible  to  keep  her  out  of  the 
book. 

I  hope  my  dear  little  friends  will  see  how 
kind  it  was  in  God  to  send  the  "  slow  winter " 
and  the  long  nights  of  pain  to  little  Prudy. 

If  trouble  should  come  to  us,  let  us  grow 
gentle,  and  patient,  and  lovely. 

Little  friends,  be  sure  of  one  thing — our  dear 
Father  in  heaven  sends  us  something  hard  to 
v  bear  only  because  he  loves  us. 

(5) 

462558 


CONTENTS. 


I.    KEEPING  SECRETS, 5 

II.  BEFORE  DAYLIGHT,     ......  15 

III.  SUSY'S  CHRISTMAS, 25 

IV.  SUSY'S  WINGS, 41 

V.    PRUDY'S  TROUBLE, 55 

VI.  ROSY  FRANCES  EASTMAN  MART,          ...  72 

VII.    LITTLE  TROUBLES, 96 

VIII.    ANNIE  LOVEJOY, 114 

IX.  MORAL  COURAGE,       .         .        .        «        .         .133 

X.    RUTHIE  TURNER, 149 

XI.    SUSY'S  BIRTHDAY, 174 

XII.    FAREWELL,         . 182 

00 


SISTER   SUSY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

KEEPING    SECRETS. 

WE  might  begin  this  story  of 'Susy  Parlin 
on  a  New  Year's  day,  only  it  is  so  hard  to 
skip  over  Christmas.  There  is  such  a  charm 
about  Christmas  !  It  makes  you  think  at 
once  of  a  fir  tree  shining  with  little  candles 
and  sparkling  with  toys,  or  of  a  droll  Santa 
Claus  with  a  pack  full  of  presents,  or  of  a 
waxen  angel  called  the  Christ-child. 

And  it  is  just  as  well  to  date  from  the 
twenty-fifth  of  December,  because,  as  w  Christ 
was  born  on  Christmas  day,"  that  is  really 
the  "  Happy  New  Year." 


6  SISTER    SUSY. 

For  a  long  while  the  three  little  Parlin 
girls  had  been  thinking  and  dreaming  of 
presents.  Susy's  wise  head  was  like  a  bee- 
hive, full  of  little  plans  and  little  fancies, 
which  were  flying  about  like  bees,  and  buzz- 
ing in  everybody's  ears. 

But  it  may  be  as  well  to  give  you  a  short 
description  of  the  Parlin  family. 

Susy's  eyes  were  of  an  "  evening  blue," 
the  very  color  of  the  sky  in  a  summer  night ; 
good  eyes,  for  they  were  as  clear  as  a  well 
which  has  the  "truth"  lying  at  the  bottom 
of  it.  She  was  almost  as  nimble  as  a  squir- 
rel, and  could  face  a  northern  snow  storm 
like  an  engineer.  Her  hair  was  dark  brown, 
and  as  smooth  and  straight  as  pine-needles  ; 
while  Prudy's  fair  hair  rippled  like  a  brook 
running  over  pebbles.  Prudy's  face  was 
sunny,  and  her  mouth  not  much  larger  than 
a  button-hole, 


KEEPING   SECRETS.  7 

The  youngest  sister  was  named  Alice,  but 
the  family  usually  called  her  Dotty,  or  Dotty 
Dimple,  for  she  was  about  as  round  as  a 
period,  and  had  a  cunning  little  dimple  in 
each  cheek.  She  had  bright  eyes,  long 
curls,  and  a  very  short  tongue ;  that  is, 
she  did  not  talk  much.  She  was  two  years 
and  a  half  old  before  she  could  be  prevailed 
upon  to  say  anything  at  all.  Her  father 
declared  that  Dotty  thought  there  were  peo- 
ple enough  in  the  world  to  do  the  talking, 
and  she  would  keep  still ;  or  perhaps  she 
was  tired  of  hearing  Prudy  say  so  much. 

However,  she  had  a  way  of  nodding  her 
curly  head,  and  shaking  her  plump  little  fore' 
finger;  so  everybody  knew  very  well  what 
she  meant.  She  had  learned  the  use  of 
signs  from  a  little  deaf  and  dumb  boy  of - 
whom  we  shall  hear  more  by  and  by ;  but 
all  at  once,  when  she  was  ready  she  began 


8  SISTER    SUSY. 

| 

to  talk  with  all  her  might,  and  soon  made 
up  for  lost  time. 

The  other  members  of  the  family  were 
only  grown  people :  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parlin, 
the  children's  excellent  parents  ;  Mrs.  Read, 
their  kind  Quaker  grandmother ;  and  the 
Irish  servant  girl,  Xorah. 

Just  now  Miss  Margaret  Parlin,  their 
*r  aunt  Madge,"  was  visiting  them,  and  the 
little  girls  felt  quite  easy  about  Christmas, 
for  they  gave  it  all  up  to  her ;  and  when 
they  wanted  to  know  how  to  spend  their 
small  stock  of  money,  or  how  much  this  or 
that  pretty  toy  would  cost,  Priidy  always 
settled  it  by  saying,  "  Let's  go  ask  auntie : 
she'll  know,  for  she's  been  through  the 
Rithmetic." 

Prudy  spoke  these  words  with  awe.  She 
thought  "  going  through  the  Rithmetic  "  was 
qext  thing  to  going  round  the  world. 


KEEPING    SECRETS.  $ 

"O  Auntie,  I'm  so  glad  you  came," 
said  Susy,  "  for  I  didn't  see  how  I  was  ever 
going  to  finish  my  Christmas  presents  :  I  go 
to  school,  you  know,  and  it  takes  me  all  the 
rest  of  the  time  to  slide  !  " 

The  children  were  busy  making  wonderful 
things  ff  all  secret ;  "  or  they  would  have  been 
secret  if  Prudy  hadn't  told. 

For  one  thing,  she  wondered  very  much 
what  Susy  could  be  doing  with  four  pins 
stuck  in  a  spool.  She  watched  the  nimble 
fingers  as  they  passed  the  worsted  thread 
over  the  pin-heads,  making  stitches  as  fast 
as  Susy  could  wink. 

w  It  looks  like  a  teenty  snake  all  sticked 
through  the  hole  in  the  spool,"  said  Prudy, 
eager  with  curiosity.  "  If  you  ain't  a-goin'  to 
speak,  I  don't  know  what  I  shoM  do,  Susy 
Parlin  !  " 

When  poor  Susy  could  not  pretend  any 


10  SISTER    SUSY. 

lunger  not  to  hear,  she  answered  Prudy, 
half  vexed,  half  laughing,  r?O,  dear,  I  s'pose 
you'll  tease  and  tease  till  you  find  out. 
"Won't  you  never  say  a  word  to  anybody, 
never  ?  " 

"Never  in  my  world,"  replied  the  little 
one,  with  a  solemn  shake  of  her  head. 

w  Well,  it 's  a  lamp  mat  for  auntie.  It's 
going  to  be  blue,  and  red,  and  all  colors  ;  and 
when  it's  done,  mother'll  sew  it  into  around, 
and  put  fringe  on :  won't  it  be  splendid  ? 
But  remember,  you  promised  not  to  tell !  " 

Now,  the  very  next  time  Prudy  sat  in  her 
auntie's  lap  she  whispered  in  her' ear,  — 

"You  don'  know  what  we're  making  for 
you,  all  secret,  out  of  worsted,  and /shan't 
tell ! " 

"Mittens?"  said  aunt  Madge,  kissing 
Prudy 's  lips,  which  were  pressed  together 
over  her  sweet  little  secret  like  a  pair  of 
sugar-tongs  clinching  a  lump  of  sugar- 


KEEPING   SECRETS.  11 

"Mittens?  No,  indeed !  Better'n  that! 
There'll  be  fringe  all  over  it ;  it's  in  a  round ; 
it's  to  put  something  on,  — to  put  the  lamp 
on!" 

"  Not  a  lamp-mat,  of  course  ?  " 

"Why,  yes  it  is  !  O,  there,  now  you've 
been  and  guessed  all  in  a  minute  !  Susy's 
gone  an'  told  !  I  didn't  s'pose  she'd  tell.  / 
wouldn't  for  no  thin'  in  my  world  !  " 

Was  it  strange  that  Susy  felt  vexed  when 
she  found  that  her  nice  little  surprise  was  all 
spoiled  ? 

"  Try  to  be  patient,"  said  Mrs.  Parlin, 
gently.  "Remember  how  young  and  thought- 
less your  sister  is.  She  never  means  any 
harm." 

"O,  but,  mamma,"  replied  Susy,  w  she 
keeps  me  being  patient  all  the  w^hole  time, 
and  it's  hard  work." 

So  Susy,  in  her  vexation,  said  to  Prudy, 


12  SISTER   SUSY. 

rather  sternly,  *  You  little  naughty  thing,  to 
go  and  tell  when  you  promised  not  to ! 
You're  almost  as  bad  as  Dotty.  What 
makes  you  act  so?" 

"Why,  Susy,"  said  the  child,  looking  up 
through  her  tears,  "have  I  acted  ?  I  didn't 
know  I'd  acted !  If  you  loved  me,  you 
wouldn't  look  that  way  to  me.  You  wrinkle 
up  your  face  just  like  Nanny  when  she  says 
she'll  shake  the  naughty  out  of  me,  Miss 
Prudy." 

Then  what  could  Susy  do  but  forgive  the 
sweet  sister,  who  kissed  her  so  coaxingly,  and 
looked  as  innocent  as  a  poor  little  kitty  that 
has  been  stealing  cream  without  knowing  it 
is  a  sin  ? 

It  was  plain  that  it  would  not  do  to  trust 
Prudy  with  secrets.  Her  brain  could  not 
hold  them,  any  more  than  a  sieve  can  hold 
Water.  So  Mrs.  Parlin  took  pity  upon  Susy, 


KEEPING   SECRETS.  13 

and  allowed  her  and  her  cousin  Florence 
Eastman  to  lock  themselves  into  her  cham- 
ber at  certain  hours,  and  work  at  their  pres- 
ents without  interruption. 

While  the  little  girls  sat  together,  busily 
employed  with  book-marks  and  pin-cushions, 
the  time  flew  very  swiftly,  and  they  were  as 
happy  as  bees  in  a  honeysuckle. 

Mrs.  Parlin  said  she  believed  nothing  less 
than  Christmas  presents  would  ever  make 
Susy  willing  to  use  a  needle  and  thread  ;  for 
she  disliked  sewing,  and  declared  she  wished 
the  man  who  made  the  needles  had  to  swal- 
low them  all. 

The  family  were  to  celebrate  Christmas 
evening;  for  Mr.  Parlin  was  away,  and 
might  not  reach  home  in  season  for  Christ- 
mas eve. 

For  a  wonder  they  were  not  to  have  a 
Tree,  but  a  Santa  Claus,  "just  for  a  change." 


14  SISTER   SUSY. 

"  Not  a  truly  Santa  Glaus,  that  comes  puff- 
in' down  the  chimney,"  explained  Prudy, 
who  knew  very  well  it  would  be  only  cousin 
Percy  under  a  mask  and  white  wig. 


DAYLIGHT.  15 


CHAPTER  II. 

BEFORE     DAYLIGHT. 

ON  Christmas  morning,  at  three  o'clock, 
there  was  a  great  bustle  and  pattering  of  lit- 
tle feet,  ?.nd  buzzing  of  little  voices  trying  to 
speak  in  whispers.  Susy  and  Prudy  were 
awake  and  astir. 

"  Where  do  you  s'pose  the  stockings  are  ?  " 
buzzed  Prudy,  in  a  very  loud  whisper. 

"  Kight  by  the  bed-post,  Prudy  Parliii ;  and 
if  you  don't  take  care  we'll  wake  everybody 
up>  —  'Sh!  'Sh!" 

rr Mine's   pinned    on,"    said  Prudy;   "and 
P'rs  pricked  my  fingers.     O,  deary  me  !  " 
'Well,  of    course   you've    waked   'em   all 


16  SISTER    SUSY. 

now,"  exclaimed  Susy,  indignantly  :  "  I  might 
have  pricked  my  fingers  to  pieces,  but  I 
wouldn't  have  said  a  word." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parlin,  who  were  in  the 
next  room,  were  wide  awake  by  this  time ; 
but  they  said  nothing,  only  listened  to  the 
whispers  of  the  children,  which  grew  fainter, 
being  smothered  and  kept  doAvn  by  mouth- 
fuls  of  candy,  lozenges,  and  peanuts. 

The  little  girls  longed  for  daybreak.  The 
sun,  however,  seemed  to  be  in  no  haste,  and 
it  was  a  long  while  before  there  was  a  peep 
of  light.  Susy  and  Prudy  waited,  wonder- 
ing whether  the  sun  would  really  forget  to 
show  his  face  ;  but  all  the  while  they  waited 
they  were  eating  candy ;  so  it  was  neither 
dull  nor  lonely.  As  for  closing  their  eyes 
again,  they  would  have  scorned  the  idea.  It 
would  be  a  pity  indeed  to  fall  asleep,  and 
lose  the  pleasure  of  saying  "  Merry  Christ- 


BEFOKE  DAYLIGHT.  17 

mas"  to  everybody.  Norah,  the  Irish  ser- 
vant, had  said  she  should  be  up  very  early  to 
attend  High  Mass  :  they  must  certainly  way- 
lay her  on  the  stairs.  How  astonished  she 
would  be,  when  she  supposed  they  were  both 
soundly  asleep  ! 

"Let  me  do  it  myself,"  said  Susy:  "you 
stay  here,  Prudy,  for  you'll  be  sure  to  make 
a  noise." 

"I'll  go  on  my  tippy  toes,"  pleaded  Prudy, 
her  mouth  half  filled  with  chocolate  drops. 

So  through  their  mother's  room  they  stole 
softly,  only  throwing  over  one  chair,  and 
hitting  Dotty 's  crib  a  little  in  their  haste. 
Dotty  made  a  sleepy  sound  of  alarm,  and 
Prudy  could  not  help  laughing,  but  only  "  in 
her  sleeve,"  that  is,  in  her  "nightie  "  sleeve, 
which  she  put  up  to  her  mouth  to  smother 
the  noise. 

When  they   had  reached   the   back-stairs 


18  SISTER    SUSY. 

Susy  whispered,  "  O,  Norah  is  up  and  gone 
down.  I  hear  her  in  the  kitchen.  'Sh  !  'Sh  !  " 

Susy  thought  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost, 
and  she  would  have  rushed  down  stairs,  two 
steps  at  a  time,  but  her  little  sister  was 
exactly  in  the  way. 

w  Somebody  has  been  and  tugged  my  little 
chair  up  here,"  said  Prudy,  "  and  I  must  tug 
it  back  again." 

So  in  the  dim  light  the  two  children  groped 
their  way  down  stairs,  Prudy  going  first 
with  the  chair. 

"  O,  what  a  little  snail !  Hurry —  can't 
you?"  said  Susy,  impatiently;  "Xorah'll  be 
gone  !  What's  the  use  of  our  waking  up  in 
the  night  if  we  can't  say  Merry  Christmas  to 
anybody?" 

"  Well,  ain't  I  a-hurryin'  now?  "  exclaimed 
Prudy,  plunging  forward  and  falling,  chair 
and  all,  the  whole  length  of  the  stairs. 


BEFORE    DAYLIGHT.  19 

All  the  house  was  awake  now,  for  Prudy 
screamed  lustily.  Grandma  Read  called  out 
from  the  passage-way,  — 

"  O,  little  Prudence,  has  thee  broken  thy 
neck  ?  " 

Mrs.  Pavlin  rushed  out,  too  frightened  to 
speak,  and  Mr.  Paiiin  ran  down  stairs,  and 
took  Prudy  up  in  his  arms. 

"  It  was  —  you  —  did  it  —  Susy  Parliu," 
sobbed  the  child.  "I  shouldn't — have — fell, 
if  you  —  hadn't  —  have  —  screamed." 

The  poor  little  girl  spoke  slowly  and  with 
difficulty,  as  if  she  dropped  a  bucket  into  her 
full  heart,  and  drew  up  the  words  one  at  a 
time. 

"O,  mother,  I  know  it  was  me,"  said 
Susy  meekly ;  "  and  I  was  careless,  and  it 
was  all  in  the  dark.  I'm  sure  I  hope 
Prudy '11  forgive  me." 

"  No,  it  wasn't  you,  neither,"  said  Prudy, 


20  SISTER   SUSY. 

whose  good  humor  was  restored  the  mo- 
ment Susy  had  made  what  she  considered 
due  confession.  "You  never  touched  me, 
Susy  !  It  was  the  chair;  and  I  love  you 
just  as  dearly  as  ever  I  did." 

Prudy  lay  on  the  sofa  for  some  time,  look- 
ing quite  pale  by  the  gas-light,  while  her 
mother  rubbed  her  side,  and  the  rest  of  the 
family  stood  looking  at  her  with  anxious 
faces. 

It  was  quite  an  important  occasion  for 
Prudy,  who  always  liked  to  be  the  centre  of 
attraction. 

w  O,  mamma,"  said  she,  closing  her  eyes 
languidly,  "when  the  room  makes  believe 
whirl  round,  does  it  truly  whirl  round?  " 

The  truth  was,  she  felt  faint  and  dizzy, 
though  only  for  a  short  time. 

"I  wish,"  said  she,  "  it  had  been  somebody 
else  that  fell  down  stairs,  and  not  me,  for  I 


BEFORE    DAYLIGHT.  21 

didn't  go  down  easy !  The  prongs  of  the 
chair  pushed  right  into  my  side." 

But  it  did  not  appear  that  Prudy  was  much 
injured,  after  all.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was 
skipping  about  the  room  almost  as  nimbly  as 
ever,  only  stopping  to  groan  every  now  and 
then,  when  she  happened  to  think  of  it. 

"It  is  a  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Parliu,  "that 
more  children  are  not  lamed  for  life  by  such 
accidents." 

"I  have  often  thought  of  it,"  said  aunt 
Madge.  "  Some  little  ones  seem  to  be  mak- 
ing hair-breadth  escapes  almost  every  day 
of  their  lives.  I  believe  Prudy  would  have 
been  in  her  grave  long  ago,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  her  guardian  angel." 

The  long-expected  Christmas  had  come  at 
last,  and  Prudy  had  stumbled  into  it,  as  she 
stumbled  into  everything  else.  But  it  is  an 
111  wind  which  blows  no  good  to  anybody ; 


22  SISTER 

and  it  so  happened  that  in  all  this  confusion 
Susy  was  able  to  "  wish  a  Merry  Christmas  " 
to  Norah,  and  to  the  whole  family  besides. 

When  Mrs.  Parlin  found  that  the  children 
were  too  thoroughly  awake  to  go  to  sleep 
again  that  morning,  she  told  them  they  might 
dress  themselves  in  the  parlor  if  they  would 
keep  as  quiet  as  possible,  and  let  the  rest  of 
the  household  take  another  nap. 

It  all  seemed  very  strange  and  delightful 
to  the  little  girls.  It  was  like  another  sort 
of  life,  this  new  arrangement  of  stealing 
about  the  house  in  the  silent  hours  before 
daybreak.  Susy  thought  she*  'should  like  to 
sit  up  all  night,  and  sleep  all  day,  if  the 
mayor  would  only  hush  the  streets  ;  it  would 
be  so  odd ! 

"O,  how  dark  the  clouds  are!"  said 
Prudy,  peeping  out  of  the  window ;  "  it  fogs 
60  I  can't  see  a  single  thing.  Susy,  I'm 


BEFORE    DAYLIGHT.  23 

going  to  keep  at  watch  of  the  sky.  Don't 
you  s;pose,  though,  'twill  be  Christmas  all 
the  same,  if  there's  a  snow  storm?" 

"  There's  been  snow,"  said  Susy,  "  all  in 
the  night.  Look  down  at  the  pavement. 
Don't  you  wish  that  was  frosted  cake  ?  " 

"  O,  the  snow  came  in  the  night,  so  not  to 
wake  us  up,"  cried  Prudy,  clapping  her 
hands  ;  "  but  it  wouldn't  have  waked  us,  you 
know,  even  in  the  night,  for  it  came  so 
still." 

"  But  why  don't  the  clouds  go  off?  "  she 
added,  sadly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Susy  ;  "  perhaps 
they  are  waiting  till  the  sun  comes  and  smiles 
them  away." 

Such  happy  children  as  these  were,  as  they 
sat  peeping  out  of  the  window  at  the  dull 
gray  sky ! 

They  did  not  know  that  a  great  mischief 


24  SISTER    SUSY. 

was  begun  that  morning — a  mischief  which 
was  no  larger  yet  than  a  "  a  midge's  wing." 
They  were  watching  the  clouds  for  a  snow 
storm ;  but  they  never  dreamed  of  such 
things  as  clouds  of  trouble,  which  grow 
darker  and  darker,  and  which  even  the  beau- 
tiful Christmas  sun  cannot  "  smile  away." 


SUSY'S    CHRISTMAS.  25 


CHAPTER   III. 

SUSY'S   CHRISTMAS. 

IT  wis  bright  and  beautiful  all  day,  and 
tnen,  i*  hen  no  one  could  possibly  wait  any 
longer,  it  was  Christmas  evening.  The  coal 
glowed  in  the  grate  with  a  splendid  blaze : 
all  the  gas-burners  were  lighted,  and  so  were 
everybody's  eyes.  If  one  had  listened,  one 
mi^ht  have  heard,  from  out  of  doors,  a  joy- 
ful tinkling  of  sleigh-bells;  yet  I  fancy 
nobody  could  have  told  whether  the  streets 
were  still  or  noisy,  or  whether  the  sky  had 
a  moon  in  it  or  not ;  for  nobody  was  quiet 
long  enough  to  notice. 


26  SISTEK    SUSY. 

But  by  arid  by,  when  the  right  time  had 
come,  the  folding-doors  were  opened,  just 
like  the  two  covers  to  a  Christmas  fairy 
book.  Then,  in  a  second,  it  was  so  still  you 
might  have  heard  a  pin  drop. 

Such  a  funny  little  old  gentleman  had 
arrived :  his  face  alive  with  dimples,  and 
smiles,  and  wrinkles.  His  cheeks  were  as 
red  and  round  as  winter  apples,  and  where 
there  wasn't  a  wrinkle  there  was  a  dimple ; 
and  no  doubt  there  was  a  dimple  in  his  chin, 
and  his  chin  maybe  was  double,  only  you 
couldn't  tell,  for  it  was  hidden  ever  so  deep 
under  a  beard  as  white  as  a  snow-drift. 

He  walked  along,  tottering  under  the 
weight  of  a  nuge  pack  full  of  presents.  He 
extended  his  small  arms  towards  the  audience 
most  affectionately,  and  you  could  see  that 
his  antiquated  coat-sleeves"  were  bristling 
with  toys  and  glistening  with  ornaments. 


SUSY'S  CHRISTMAS.  27 

His  eyes  twinkled  with  fun,  and  his  mouth, 
which  seemed  nearly  worn  out  with  laugh- 
ing, grew  bigger  every  minute. 

It  took  the  dear  old  gentleman  some  time 
to  clear  his  throat ;  but  when  he  had  found 
his  voice,  which  at  first  was  as  fine  as  a  knit' 
ting-needle,  and  all  of  a  tremble,  he  made 

THE  SPEECH  OF  SANTA  GLAUS. 

"How  do,  my  darlings?  How  do,  all 
round?  Bless  your  little  hearts,  how  do 
you  all  dp  ?  Did  they  tell  ye  Santa  wasn't 
a-comin',  my  dears?  Did  your  grandpas 
and  grandmas  say,  '  Humph  !  there  isn't  any 
such  a  person.'  My  love  to  the  good  old 
people.  I  know  they  mean  all  right ;  but 
tell  them  they'll  have  to  give  it  up  now  !  " 

(Here  Santa  Glaus  made  a  low  bow. 
Everybody  laughed  and  clapped  ;  but  Prudy 
whispered,  "0,  don't  he  look  old  all  over? 


28  SISTER    SUSY. 

What  has  he  done  with  his  teeth  ?  O,  dear, 
has  anybody  pulled  'em  out  ?  ") 

"Yes,  my  dears,"  continued  the  old  geii' 
tleman,  encouraged  by  the  applause, — "  yes, 
my  dears,  here  I  am,  as  jolly  as  ever  !  But 
bless  your  sweet  little  hearts,  I've  had  a  ter- 
rible time  getting  here  !  The  wind  has  been 
bio  win'  me  up  as  fierce  as  you  please,  and 
I've  been  shook  round  as  if  I  wasn't  of  more 
account  than  a  kernel  of  corn  in  a  pepper  ! 

"O,  O,  I've  been  ducked  up  to  the  chin 
in  some  awful  deep  snow-drifts,  up  there  by 
the  North  Pole  !  This  is  the  very  first  time 
the  storms  have  come  so  heavy-  as  to  cover 
over  the  end  of  the  North  Pole  !  But  this 
year  they  had  to  dig  three  days  before  they 
could  find  it.  O,  ho  ! 

"  I  was  a-wanderin'  round  all  last  night ; 
a  real  shivery  night,  too  !  Got  so  broke  up, 
there's  nothing  left  of  me  but  small  pieces. 
0,  hum! 


SUSY'S  CHRISTMAS.  29 

"Such  a  time  as  I  had  in  some  of  those 
chimneys,  you  haven't  any  idee !  Why, 
if  you'll  believe  me,  over  there  in  Iceland 
somebody  forgot  to  clear  out  the  chimney, 
and  there  I  stuck  fast,  like  a  fish-bone  in 
your  throat ;  couldn't  be  picked  out,  couldn't 
be  swallowed  ! 

"The  funniest  time  that  was !  How  I 
laughed !  And  then  the  children's  mother 
woke  up,  and,  'O,  dear/ said  she;  'hear 
the  wind  sigh  down  the  chimney  ! '  '  Only 
me,'  says  I;  'and  I've  caught  you  nap- 
ping this  time  ! '  She  helped  me  out,  and 
when  I  had  caught  my  breath,  I  climbed 
out  the  window ;  but,  deary  me,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  that  very  woman  went  to  sleep 
again,  and  thought  it  was  all  a  dream ! 
Heigh-ho  !  that's  the  way  they  always  treat 
poor  Santa  Glaus  nowadays." 

(Here    the    children    laughed,    and    SusJ 


80  SISTER   SUSY. 

Baid,  "I  guess  he  must  have  bumped  his 
nose  against  that  chimney :  see  what  a 
hump  ! ") 

"  O,  O,  don't  you  make  sport  of  me, 
children  !  My  nose  is  big,  to  be  sure, 
but  I'm  going  to  keep  it  and  make  the 
best  of  it !  If  you  loved  Santa  as  he  loves 
you,  you  wouldn't  mind  the  looks.  I  icas 
going  to  change  my  coat  and  dickey ;  but 
then,  thinks  I,  I'll  come  just  as  I  am !  I 
patted  myself  on  the  shoulder,  and  says  I, 
f  Santa  Glaus,  don't  you  fret  if  you  are 
growin'  old !  You  may  look  a  little  dried 
up,  but  your  h^art  isn't  wrinkled.  •  O  no!' 
You  see  father  Adam  and  me  was  very  near 
of  an  age,  but  somehow  I  never  growed 
up  !  I  always  thought  big  folks  did  very- 
well  in  their  place ;  but  for  my  part,  give 
me  the  children.  Hurrah  for  the  children  !  " 

(Great  clapping  and  laughing.) 


BUST'S  CHRISTMAS,     f age  M. 


SUSY'S    CHRISTMAS*  31 

WI  tell  you,  darlings,  I  haven't  forgot 
a  single  one  of  you.  My  pockets  are  run- 
ning over.  I've  been  preparing  presents 
for  you  ever  since  last  fall,  when  the  birds 
broke  up  housekeeping. 

"Here's  a  tippet  for  the  Prudy  girl, 
and  she  may  have  it  for  nothing ;  and  they 
are  cheaper  'n  that,  if  you  take  'em  by 
the  quantity. 

"  I'm  a  walkin'  book-case.  Why,  I'vo 
brought  stories  and  histories  enough  to 
set  up  a  store  !  I've  got  more  nuts  than 
you  can  shake  a  hammer  at ;  but  I  think 
there's  more  bark  to  'em  than  there  is 
bite.  O,  O,  I  find  I  can't  crack  'em  with 
my  teeth,  as  I  used  to  a  hundred  years 
ago! 

"  But  my  dear,  sweet,  cunning  little 
hearers,  I  must  be  a-goin'.  Queen  Vic- 
toria, said  she  to  me,  said  she,  '  Now, 
3 


62  SISTER   SUSY. 

Santa,  my  love,  do  you  hurry  back  to  fill 
my  children's  stockings  before  the  clock 
strikes  twelve.'  Queen  Vie  is  an  excellent 
woman,  and  is  left  a  poor  widow ;  so  I 
can't  disappoint  her,  poor  soul ! 

"  I  must  be  a-goin' !  Would  like  to 
hug  and  kiss  you  all  round,  but  can't  stop. 
(Kisses  his  hand  and  bows.)  A  Merry 
Christmas  to  you  all,  and  a  Happy  Xew 
Year." 

So  saying,  Santa  Glaus  suddenly  disap- 
peared at  the  hall  door,  dropping  his  heavy 
pack  upon  the  table. 

In  another  minute  the  lively  p)d  gentle- 
man was  in  the  front  parlor  without  a;iy 
mask,  and  of  course  it  was  nobody  but 
cousin  Persy,  "with  his  face  off." 

Then  they  all  fell  to  work  sorting  out 
presents.  Prudy  seized  her  fur  tippet,  and 
put  it  on  at  once. 


SUSY'S    CHRISTMAS.  33 

WO,  how  pretty  I  look,"  said  she;  "just 
like  a  little  cat!  Ain't  I  cunning?" 

But  nobody  could  pause  to  attend  to 
Prudy,  though  she  chatted  very  fast,  with- 
out commas  or  periods,  and  held  up  to 
view  a  large  wax  doll  which  "would  be 
alive  if  it  could  talk."  They  all  had  gifts 
as  well  as  Prudy,  and  wished  to  talk  rather 
than  to  listen.  They  asked  questions  with- 
out waiting  for  answers,  and  did  not  mind 
interrupting  one  another,  and  talking  all 
at  once,  like  a  party  of  school  children. 

All  this  was  hardly  polite,  it  is  true ; 
but  people  are  sometimes  surprised  out 
of  their  good  manners  on  Christmas  even- 
ings, and  must  be  forgiven  for  it,  as  such 
a  good  time  happens  but  once  a  year. 

Percy  broke  in  with  an  old  song,  and 
went  through  writh  a  whole  stanza  of  it, 
although  no  one  listened  to  a  word :  — • 


34  SISTER   SUST. 

"  Good  luck  unto  old  Christmas, 

And  long  life  let  us  sing, 
For  he  doeth  more  good  unto  the  poor 
Than  many  a  crowned  king." 

w  My  beautiful  books  ! "  cried  aunt  Madge  ; 
*  Russia  morocco." 

"  My  writing-desk,  —  has  any  one  looked 
at  it?"  said  Mrs.  Parlin;  "rosewood,  in- 
laid with  brass." 

"  My  skates !  "  broke  in  Susy,  at  the  top 
of  her  voice. 

"  Hush  !  "  screamed  cousin  Percy  ;  — 
"  won't  anybody  please  notice  my  drum  ? 
If  you  won't  look,  then  look  -out  for  a 
drum  in  each  ear !  " 

And,  as  nobody  would  look  or  pay  the 
slightest  attention,  they  all  had  to  hear 
"  Dixie "  pounded  out  in  true  martial 
style,  till  they  held  on  to  their  ears. 

"  Rattle ty     bang ! "      went     the      drum. 


SUSY'S    CHRISTMAS.  35 

"Tweet,  tweet,'*  whistled  the  little  mu- 
sical instruments  which  the  children  were 
blowing. 

"  Have  pity  on  us  !  "  cried  aunt  Madge  ; 
"I  am  bewildered;  my  head  is  floating 
like  a  Chinese  garden." 

"  Order  !  "  shouted  Mr.  Parlin,  laughing. 

"O,  yes,  sir,"  said  Percy,  seizing  Susy 
and  whirling  her  round.  "  Children,  why 
don't  you  try  to  preserve  order?  My 
nerves  are  strung  up  like  violin-strings ! 
I've  got  a  pound  of  headache  to  every 
ounce  of  brains.  Susy  Parlin,  do  try  to 
keep  still ! " 

"Thee  needn't  pretend  it  is  all  Susan," 
said  grandma  Read,  smiling.  "  Thee  and 
little  Prudence  are  the  noisiest  of  the 
whole  ! " 

In  fact,  they  raised  such  a  din,  that  after 
a  while  poor  grandma  ±vead  smoothed  the 


36  SISTER    SUSY. 

Quaker  cap  over  her  smiling  face,  and  stole 
off  into  her  own  chamber,  where  she  could 
"settle  down  into  quietness."  Much  noise 
always  coiifused  grandma  Read. 

But  in  a  very  few  moments,  when  the 
excitement  began  to  die  out,  there  was  a 
season  of  overwhelming  gratitude.  Every- 
body had  to  thank  everybody  else ;  and  Mr. 
Parlin,  who  had  a  beautiful  <Jressmo-»own 
to  be  grateful  for,  nevertheless  found  time 
to  tell  Susy,  over  and  over  again,  how  de- 
lighted he  was  with  her  book-mark,  made, 
by  her  own  fingers,  of  three  wide  strips  of 
velvet  ribbon ;  on  the  ends  of  which  were 
fastened  a  cross,  a  star,  and  an  anchor,  of 
card-board. 

"  Papa,  one  ribbon  is  to  keep  your  place 
in  the  Old  Testament,"  said  Susy ;  "  one  is 
to  stay  in  the  middle,  at  the  births  and  mar- 
riages ;  and  the  other  one  is  for  our  chapter 
in  the  New  Testament,  you  know." 


SUSY'S  CHRISTMAS.  37 

"I  think  my  lamp-mat  is  very  pretty," 
said  aunt  Madge,  kissing  Susy;  "every  bit 
as  pretty  as  if  Prudy  hadn't  fbeeii  and 
told.'" 

Prudy  had  bought  a  shawl-pin  for  her 
mother,  a  fierce  little  wooden  soldier  for 
aunt  Madge,  and  something  for  everybody 
else  but  Susy.  Not  that  she  forgot  Susy. 
O,  no  !  but  one's  money  does  not  always 
hold  out,  even  at  Christmas  time. 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Paiiin,  w  what  is  this 
sticking  fast  to  the  sole  of  my  new  slipper? 
Molasses  candy,  I  do  believe." 

"  Yes  sir ;  that's  for  Susy,"  cried  Prudy, 
suddenly  remembering  how  she  had  tucked 
it  in  at  the  last  moment,  when  she  could  not 
stop  to  find  any  wrapping-paper.  "  It  isn't 
BO  big  as  it  was,  but  it's  the  biggest  piece 
I  had  in  this  world.  I  saved  it  last  night. 
Susy  likes  'lasses  candy,  and  I  couldn't  think 
of  nothin'  else," 


38  SISTER   SUSY. 

It  was  a  wonder  that  Prudy's  candy  had 
not  spoiled  some  of  the  nice  presents. 

Susy  received  several  pretty  things ;  and 
though  she  did  not  talk  quite  so  much  as 
Prudy,  she  was  just  as  happy.  For  one 
thing,  she  had  what  she  had  not  dreamed 
was  possible  for  a  little  girl  —  a  bottle  of 
oit j  of  rose ;  "just  like  a  young  lady." 

This  was  a  real  delight  to  Susy ;  but 
Prudy,  sniffing  at  it,  said,  coolly,  "  O,  ho  ! 
it  smells  's  if  it  didn't  cost  more'n  a  cent ! 
'Tisii't  half  so  sweet  as  peprnint ! " 

Before  Dotty  could  be  put  to  bed,  she 
had  contrived  to  break  several  toys,  all  of 
which  happened  to  be  Susy's  —  a  sugar 
temple,  a  glass  pitcher,  and  a  small  vase. 

This  was  an  evening  long  to  be  remem- 
bered;  but  the  most  remarkable  event  of 
vall  was  to  come. 

"Susy,   my   daughter,"  said  Mr.  Parlin, 


SUSY'S    CHRISTMAS.  39 

"have  you  been  wondering  why  you  don't 
see  a  present  from  me?" 

Susy  blushed.  She  had  certainly  ex- 
pected something  handsome  this  year  from 
her  father. 

"  I  haven't  forgotten  you,  my  dear ;  but 
the  present  I  have  chosen  wouldn't  sit  very 
well  on  the  shoulders  of  such  a  little  fellow 
as  Santa  Glaus." 

Percy  laughed.  "  Wouldn't  it  have  been 
a  load,  uncle?" 

"  Hush  I  "  whispered  aunt  Madge  ;  "  she 
isn't  to  know  till  morning." 

"  But,  papa,"  said  Susy,  her  eyes  shining 
with  excitement,  "why  couldn't  you  bring 
it  in  here  now?" 

"It  is  better  off  out  of  doors.  Indeed, 
to  tell  the  truth,  my  child,  it  is  hardly  suit- 
able for  the  parlor." 

"  Now,  Miss  Susy,"  said  Percy,  measuring 


40  SISTER   SUSY. 

off  his  words  on  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  "I'm 
authorized  to  tell  you  it's  something  you 
mustn't  take  in  your  lap,  mustn't  hang  on  a 
nail ;  if  you  do,  you'll  lose  it.  I'm  sure 
'twill  please  you,  Susy,  because  it's  a  mute, 
and  can't  speak.  You " 

"  O,  hush  talking  about  dumb  people  !  -I 
shouldn't  think  you'd  make  sport  of  Freddy 
Jackson !  If  you  was  a  little  deaf-and- 
dumber  than  you  are  now,  I'd  like  you 
better ! 

r  O,  dear,  dear  !  "  cried  she,  dancing  about 
the  room  ;  "  what  can  it  be  ?  I  can't  wait  I  " 

"  Only  think ;  all  night  before  I'll  know," 
thought  she,  as  she  touched  her  pillow.  "O, 
Prudy,  to-morrow  morning  !  Only  think  of 
to-morrow  morning  !  All  my  other  presents 
are  just  nothing  at  all.  Anything  is  so 
much  nicer  when  you  don't  know  what  it 
Us!  " 


SUSY'S  WINGS.  41 


CHAPTER  IT. 

SUSY'S  WINGS. 

SUSY  awoke  next  morning  verj  much 
surprised  to  find  the  sun  so  high.  jPrudy 
was  lying  beside  her,  talking  to  hei^elf. 

"  I  don't  feel  very  well,"  said  the  child ; 
w  but  I'm  pleasant ;  I  mean  to  be  £  od  all 
day." 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  to  me?  '  cried 
Susy,  springing  out  of  bed,  "  whwn  you 
knew  how  I  couldn't  wait  to  s>^e  my 
present?" 

"I  would  have  woke  you  up,  Susy,  but 
I  ain't  well ;  I'm  sick  in  my  knee." 

And    Prudy   limped   about   the   room   to 


42  SISTER   SUSY. 

show  her  sister  how  lame  she  was.  But 
Susy  was  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  pay  much 
attention  to  her,  or  to  help  her  dress. 

"  Good  morning,  papa  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
the  moment  she  entered  the  parlor ;  "  now 
may  I  see  the  present  ?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  you  could  wait  till  after 
breakfast,  Susy?" 

Aunt  Madge  smiled  as  she  looked  at  the 
little  eager  face. 

"I  see  you  are  going  on  with  your  les- 
sons," said  she. 

"What  lessons,  auntie?  Why,  it  is  the 
holidays ! " 

"  Lessons  in  patience,  my  dear.  Isn't 
something  always  happening  wnich  you  have 
to  be  patient  about  ?  " 

Susy  thought  of  Prudy's  habit  of  dis- 
closing secrets,  Dotty 's  trying  way  of  de- 
stroying playthings;  and  now  this  long 


SUSY'S  WINGS.  43 

delay  about  her  present.  She  began  to 
think  there  were  a  great  many  vexations  in 
the  world,  and  that  she  bore  them  remark- 
ably well  for  such  a  little  girl. 

"Yes,  thee  must  let  patience  have  her 
perfect  work,  Susan "  said  grandma  Reed, 
after  the  "silent  blessing ""  had  been  asked 
at  the  table. 

"Mayn't  I  go,  too?"  said  Prudy,  when 
she  saw  her  father,  her  auntie,  and  Susy 
leaving  the  house  just  after  breakfast. 

And  she  went,  as  a  matter  of  course ; 
but  the  pavements  were  a  little  slippery  from 
sleet ;  and  Prudy,  who  was  never  a  famous 
walker,  had  as  much  as  she  could  do,  even 
with  the  help  of  her  father's  hand,  to  keep 
from  falling. 

"Why,  Prudy,"  said  Mr.  Parlin,  "what 
ails  you  this  morning?  You  limp  so  much 
that  I  believe  you  need  crutches." 


4/  SISTER    SUSY. 

*"Itp-  ftfs\  in  my  knee,"  replied  Prudy, 
delighted  to  see  that  her  lameness  was  ob- 
served, "iff  you  bad  my  knee,  and  it  hurt5 
you'd  know  how  it  feels  ! " 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  a  livery 
stable;  and,  to  Susy's  surprise,  her  fother 
stopped  short,  and  said  to  a  man  who  stood 
by  the  door,  "Mr.  Hill,  my  daughter  has 
come  to  lock  at  her  pony." 

Prudy  was  m  a  great  fright  at  sight  of  so 
many  horses,  and  needed  all  her  auntie's 
attention ;  but  Susy  had  no  fear,  and  Mr. 
Parlin  led  her  along  to  a  stall  where  stood 
a  beautiful  black  pony,  as  gentle- locking 
as  a  Newfoundland  dog. 

"How  do  you  like  him,  Susy?  Stroke 
his  face,  and  talk  to  Mm." 

w  But,  O,  papa,  yon  don't  p~»ean,  you 
can't  mean,  he's  my  very  own  I  A  wholf 
pony  all  to  myself ! " 


SUSY'S  WINGS.  45 

"See  what  you  think  of  his  saddle,  miss," 
said  Mr,  Hill,  laughing  at  Susy's  eagerness ; 
and  he  led  pony  out,  and  threw  over  his 
back  a  handsome  side-saddle. 

"Why,  it  seems  as  if  I  could  just  jump 
on f- without  anybody  touching  me,"  cried. 
Susy. 

"  Xot  afraid  a  bit?  "  said  Mr.  Hill,  as  Mr. 
Parlin  seated  Susy  in  the  saddle,  and  gave 
her  the  reins.  "Ponies  throw  people,  some- 
times." 

"  O,  but  my  papa  would  never  give  me 
a  bad  pony,"  answered  Susy,  with  perfect 
confidence . 

Mr.  Hill  laughed  again.  He  was  a  rough 
man ;  but  he  thought  a  child's  faith  in  a 
parent  was  a  beautiful  thing. 

He  did  not  know  many  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture, but  thought  he  had  read  somewhere, 
"And  if  he  ask  bread,  will  he  give  him  a 


46  SISTER    SUSY. 

stone  r  *  No  ;  fathers  are  glad  to  give  their 
"best  gvfts,"  and  the  little  ones  trust  them. 

"It's  like  sailing  in  a  boat,"  cried  Susy, 
riding-  back  and  forth  about  the  yard  in 
great  excitement ;  "  why,  it's  just  as  easy  as 
the  swing  IE  the  oilnut-tree  at  grandma 
Parlin's  !  O,  papa,  to  think  I  should  forget 
to  thank  you  !  " 

But  perhaps  Mr.  Parlin  regarded  glowing 
cheeks  and  shining  eyes  as  the  very  best 
of  thanks. 

Prudy  thought  the  pony  a  beautiful  "  baby 
horse  ;  "  wanted  to  ride,  and  didn't  want  to  ; 
was  afraid,  and  wasn't  afraid,  .and,  as  her 
father  «aid,  "  had  as  many  minds  as  some 
politicians  who  are  said  to  f  stand  on  the 
fence.' "  By  and  by,  after  some  coaxing, 
the  timid  little  thing  consented  to  sit  be- 
hind Susy,  and  cling  round  her  waist,  if 
her  father  would  walk  beside  her  to  make 


SUSY'S  WIXGS.  47 

sure  she  didn't  fall  off.  In  this  way  they 
went  home. 

"  I  like  to  sit  so  I  can  hug  my  sister,  while 
she  drives  the  horse,"  said  Prudy;  "besides, 
it  hurts  me  to  walk." 

Mr.  Parlin  and  aunt  Madge  smiled  at  the 
child's  speeches,  but  gave  no  more  heed  to 
this  lameness  of  which  she  complained,  than 
they  did  to  any  of  the  rest  of  her  little 
freaks. 

Prudy  liked  to  be  pitied  for  every  small 
hurt;  and  when  Susy  had  a  sore  throat, 
and  wore  a  compress,  she  looked  upon  her 
with  envy,  and  felt  it  almost  as  a  personal 
slight  that  her  throat  could  not  be  wrapped 
in  a  compress  too. 

On  their  way  they  met  "lame  Jessie,"  a 
little  girl  with  crooked  spine  and  very  high 
shoulders,  who  hobbled  along  on  crutches. 

"She's  lamer  than  me,"  said  Prudy. 
*Good  morning,  Jessie." 


48  SISTER   8US*. 

w  I  know  what  I've  thought  of,"  said  Susy, 
who  could  talk  of  nothing  which  was  not 
in  some  way  connected  with  her  pony. 
Tm  going  to  give  that  girl  some  ridest 
How  happy  she  will  be,  poor  little  Jessie  !  " 

"When  you  get  your  sleigh,"  said  Mr. 
Parlin. 

"My  sleigh,  papa?  How  many  more 
presents  are  coming?" 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell,  Susy ;  one  gift  makes 
way  for  another,  3^0 u  see.  First  comes  the 
pony ;  but  how  can  he  live  without  a  stable, 
and  a  groom  to  feed  him  ?  Then  what  is  a 
pony  worth  without  a  saddle?  And,  as  one 
does  not  wish  always  to  ride  pony-back,  a 
sleigh  is  the  next  thing." 

"But,  papa,  you  know  in  the  summer!" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  in  the  summer,  if  we  all 
live,  there  must  be  a  light  carriage  made  on 
purpose  for  you." 


SUSY'S  WINGS.  4£ 

w  There  is  one  thing  more  that  pony 
needs,"  said  aunt  Madge,  stroking  his  eye- 
brows, "and  that  is,  a  name." 

w  O,  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Susy ; 
whelp  me  find  a  name,  auntie." 

"  Let  me  think.  I  should  call  him  some- 
thing good  and  pleasant.  Think  of  some- 
thing you  like  very  much." 

"  O,  Frosted  Cake,"  criedPrudy  : "  wouldn't 
that  be  pleasant?  Susy  loves  that." 

"  I  should  like  to  name  him  for  the  Ameri- 
can Eagle,"  said  Susy,  who  had  heard  some 
patriotic  speeches  from  her  cousin  Percy; 
"  only  you  couldn't  pet  that  name,  could 
you  ?  " 

w  You  might  call  him  Don  Carlos,  or  Don 
Pedro,"  suggested  Mr.  Parlin. 

"  Xo,  papa  ;  only  think  of  Donny  :  that  is 
like  Donkey !  You  haven't  any  long  ears, 
liave  you,  pony?  If  you  had,  I'd  call  you 


50  SISTER    SUSY. 

Little  Pitcher,  for  '  little  pitchers  have  great 
ears.'  That  makes  me  think  of  "Mr.  Allen, 
auntie.  How  big  his  ears  are,  you  know ! 
Is  it  because  his  teacher  pulled  them  so  ?  " 

"  O,  call  him  '  Gustus,'  "  cried  Prudy. 

"  But  that  would  soon  be  Gusty,"  said 
aunt  Madge,  "  and  would  sound  too  much 
like  the  east  wind." 

"Deary  me,"  ''sighed  Susy;  ".who'd  ever 
think  it  was  such  hard  work  to  find  names?" 

"O,  look,"  said  Prudy,  as  they  passed  a 
jaded  old  horse ;  "  there  is  a  pony  just  ex- 
actly like  this  !  Only  it's  twice  as  big,  you 
know,  and  not  a  bit  such  a  color  !  " 

"  Well,  there,  Prudy,"  said  Susy,  disdain- 
fully, "  I  thought,  when  you  began  to  speak, 
you  was  going  to  tell  something !  Why 
don't  you  wait  till  you  have  something  to 
say?  Please  give  me  a  list  of  names,  papa." 

"There's  Speedwell,  Lightfoot,  Zephyr, 
Prince,  Will-o'-the-wisp " 


SUSY'S  WIXGS.  51 

M I  might  call  him  Wispy,"  broke  in 
Susy,  "  Zephyr  is  good,  only  it  makes  you 
think  of  worsteds." 

"  Xo\v,  listen,"  said  aunt  Madge ;  w  you 
might  call  him  Elephant,  just  for  sport,  be- 
cause he  is  in  reality  so  very  little.  Or,  on 
the  other  hand,  you  might  find  the  least 
speck  of  a  name,  like  Firefly,  or  Midge." 

"I  don't  like  any  of  those,"  replied  Susy, 
still  disatisfied. 

"I  see,"  said  aunt  Madge,  laughing, 
"  nothing  will  please  you  but  a  great  name. 
What  say  to  Pegasus,  a  flying  horse,  which 
poets  are  said  to  ride  ?  It  might  be  short* 
ened  to  Peggy." 

"Now,  auntie,  you  wouldn't  have  this 
beautiful  pony  called  Peggy  ;  you  know  you 
wouldn't !  the  one  my  father  bought  on  pur- 
pose for  me  !  But  was  there  such  a  horse, 
truly?" 


52  SISTER    SUSY. 

"O,  no;  there  is  an  old  fable,  which,  as 
we  say,  is  '  as  true  now  as  it  ever  was,'  of  a 
glorious  creature  with  wings,  and  whoever 
mounts  him  gets  a  flying  ride  into  the 
clouds.  But  the  trouble  is  to  catch  him ! " 

"  O,  I  wish  my  pony  could  fly,"  said  Susy, 
gazing  dreamily  at  his  black  mane  and  sleek 
sides.  "The  first  place  I'd  go  to  would  be 
the  moon ;  and  there  I'd  stay  till  I  built  a 
castle  as  big  as  a  city.  I'd  come  home  every 
night,  so  mother  wouldn't  be  frightened, 
and  fly  up  in  the  morning,  and — and " 

"See  here,"  said  Prudy,  who  had  for 
some  time  been  trying  to  speak ;  "call  him 
Wings!" 

"So  I  will,"  answered  Susy,  quickly,  "and 
I'll  make  believe  he  flies  in  the  air  like 
a  bird.  Now,  auntie,  what  do  you  think  of 
Wmgs?" 

"Odd  enough,  I'm  sure,  my  dear." 


SUSY'S  WINGSO  53 


w  Well,  /  like  it,"  returned  Susy,  with  a 
positive  shake  of  the  head.  "  It's  of  no  use 
to  keep  fussing  so  long  over  a  name,  and  I 
feel  a  great  deal  easier,  now  I've  made  up 
my  mind  !  Dear  little  Wings,  you  prick  up 
your  ears,  and  I  know  you  like  it,  too.  I 
wish  you  had  a  soul,  so  you  could  be  taken 
to  church,  and  christened  like  a  baby." 

Just  here  Susy  was  startled  by  a  sudden 
laugh  from  cousin  Percy,  who  had  for  some 
moments  been  walking  behind  the  pony  un- 
observed. 

"You're  enough  to  frighten  any  one  to 
death,"  she  screamed,  "  creeping  about  tike 
a  cat." 

Susy  had  a  foolish  dread  of  being  laughed 
at. 

"Creeping  like  a  cat,"  echoedPercy,  "while 
you  creep  like  a  snail  1  What  will  you  take 
for  your  pony,  that  can  fly  in  the  air  like  a 


54  SISTER   SUSY. 

bird,  but  can't  walk  on  the  ground  any 
better  than  a  goose  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about," 
said  Susy,  quite  excited :  "  if  you  want  to 
see  anybody  ride  fast,  just  look  here."  And 
she  started  the  pony  at  full  speed,  regard- 
less of  Prudy,  who  was  so  frightened,  that 
.  she  seized  poor  Wings  by  his  flowing  mane, 
and  called  out  for  her  sister  to  stop.  But 
Susy  dashed  on  at  a  flying  pace,  and  Percy 
cried  after  her,  "O,  Susy,  cousin  Susy, 
what  think  of  your  Christmas  present? 
Will  you  remember  not  to  eat  it,  and  not 
to  hang  it  on  a  nail?  Susy,  Susy?" 

There  was  hardly  a  happier  child  living 
than  Susy,  during  those  delightful  holidays. 
She  said  to  herself,  sometimes,  that  this  was 
such  a  beautiful  world,  she  couldn't  think 
of  a  single  thing  that  wasn't  as  splendid  as 
it  could  be 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE.  55 


CHAPTER   Y. 
PRUDY'S  TROUBLE. 

THE  happy  days  flew  by.  The  Old  Year 
was  worn  out,  and  the  New  Year  stepped  in 
fresh  and  youthful.  Susy  found  her  little 
sleigh  a  very  comfortable  affair;  and  so,  I 
think,  did  "  lame  Jessie."  When  her  father 
found  that  Susy  had  really  chosen  for  her 
pony  the  name  of  Wings,  he  ordered  a 
beautiful  picture  of  the  Flying  Horse  to  be 
painted  on  the  dashboard  of  the  sleigh. 

Susy  was  delighted  with  this,  and  her 
vivid  fancy  took  wings  at  once,  and  flew 
away  to  the  other  end  of  the  world,  where 
her  aunt  Madge  told  her  the  fountain  of 
Pirene  was  said  to  gush  out  of  a  hill-side. 


56  SISTER    SUSY. 

"Only  think,"  said  she  to  Flossy  ;  "it  was 
a  woman  once,  that  fountain  was  ;  but  she 
poured  her  life  all  out  into  tears,  crying  be- 
cause her  son  was  killed.  So  the  fountain 
is  made  of  tears  1  " 

"  Bitter  and  salt,  then,"  said  Florence, 
threading  her  needle. 

"  Xo,  indeed;  just  as  sweet  and  nice  as 
any  water.  Pegasus  loved  it ;  and  there  was 
a  beautiful  young  man,  his  name  was  Bel  — 
Bel  —  well,  I  declare,  I've  forgotten,  —  no, 
'twas  Bellerophon ;  and  he  had  a  bridle,  and 
wanted  a  horse.  O,  do  you  know  this  horse 
was  white,  with  silvery  wings,  wild  as  a 
hawk ;  and,  once  in  a  while,  he  would  fold 
up  his  wings,  and  trot  round  on  the  moun- 
tain !" 

Florence  yawned,  and  waxed  her  thread. 

w  O,  it  was  a  splendid  bridle,  this  man 
had,  made  of  gold  ;  and  I  forgot — the  inouu- 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE.  57 

tain  the  horse  trotted  round  on  was  called 
Helicon.  And  the  man  mounted  him,  and 
Went  up,  up,  till  they  were  nothing  but 
specks  in  the  sky." 

"A  likely  story,"  said  Florence;  "there, 
you've  told  enough !  I  don't  want  to  hear 
any  more  such  nonsense." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  want  to  hear  about 
the  monster  they  killed,  you  needn't ;  that's 
all  I  can  say  ;  but  the  young  man  loved  that 
horse ;  and  he  kissed  him?  too,  he  was  so 
splendid !  " 

"  Kiss  a  horse  !  "  Flossy  looked  very 
much  disgusted. 

"  Why,  I've  kissed  my  pony  a  great  many 
times,"  said  Susy,  bravely,  "right  between 
his  eyes ;  and  he  almost  kisses  me.  He 
wants  to  say,  '  I  love  you.'  I  can  see  it  in 
bis  eyes." 

By  this  time  Flossy  had  finished  her  doll's 


58  SISTER   SUSY. 

garment,  and,  putting  it  on  the  little  thing'a 
shoulders,  held  up  the  doll  to  be  admired. 

"I  think  her  opera  cloak  is  very  '  bewitch- 
ing,' don't  you,  ,Susy?  It  is  trimmed  with 
ermine,  because  she  is  a  queen,  and  is  going 
to  the  opera." 

w  It  looks  well  enough,"  said  Susy,  indif- 
ferently, "but  it  isn't  ermine ;  it's  only  white 
cat's  fur,  with  black  spots  sewed  on." 

"  Of  course  it  isn't  real  ermine  ! "  replied 
Florence  ;  "  but  I  play  that  it  is,  and  it's  just 
as  well." 

"  But  you  know  all  the  while  it's  a  make- 
believe.  She  hasn't  any  more  sense  than  a 
stick  of  wood,  either ;  and  I  don't  see  any 
sport  in  playing  with  dolls." 

"And  I  don't  see  any  sense  in  fairy 
stories,"  retorted  Flossy.  "Do  you  know 
what  Percy  says  about  you  ?  He  says  your 
head  is  as  full  of  airy  notions  as  a  dandelion 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE,  59 

top.  I  love  Queen  Mab  as  if  she  was  my 
own  sister,"  continued  Flossy,  in  a  pettish 
tone,  "You  know  I  do,  Susy.  I  alwa}rs 
thought,  if  anything  should  happen  to  Queen 
Mab,  and  I  lost  her,  I  should  certainly  dress 
in  mourning  :  now  you  needn't  laugh." 

"  O,  I  can't  help  laughing,  when  anybody 
makes  such  a  fuss  over  a  doll,"  replied  Susy, 
with  a  curl  of  the  lip.  "  Anything  that 
isn't  alive,  and  hasn't  any  sense,  and  don't 
care  for  you !  I  like  canary  birds,  and 
babies,  and  ponies,  and  that's  enough  to 
like." 

"  Well,  now,  that's  so  funny  !  "  said  Flor- 
ence, twitching  the  folds  of  Queen  Mab's 
dress  into  place ;  "  for  the  very  reason  1 
like  my  doll,  is  because  she  isn't  alive.  I 
wouldn't  have  been  you,  Susy  Parlin,  when 
you  had  your  last  canary  bird,  and  let  him 
choke  to  death." 


60  SISTER   SUSY. 

WO,  no,  Flossy,  I  didn't  let  him  choke ;  1 
forgot  to  put  any  seed  in  the  bottle,  and  he 
stuck  his  head  in  so  deep,  that  he  smothered 
to  death." 

" I  don't  know  but  smothering  is  as  bad 
as  choking,"  said  Florence  ;  "  and  now  your 
new  bird  will  be  sure  to  come  to  some  bad 
end." 

"You're  always  saying  hateful  things," 
exclaimed  Susy,  a  good  deal  vexed.  "  I  like 
Grace  Clifford  ten  times  as  well,  for  she's 
a  great  deal  more  lady-like." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  can  go  home,"  said 
Florence,  with  a  rising  color :  "you're  such 
a  perfect  lady  that  I  can't  get  along  with 
you." 

w  O,  dear,"  thought  poor  Susy,  "what 
does  ail  my  tongue  ?  Here  this  very  morn- 
ing I  said  in  my  prayer,  that  I  meant  to  be 
good  and  patient." 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE  .  61 

Florence  began  to  put  on  her  cloak. 

"Cousin  Flossy,"  said  Susy,  in  a  hesi- 
tating voice,  "I  wish  you  wouldn't  go.  I 
didn't  mean  to  tell  that  I  liked  Gracie  best ; 
but  it's  the  real  honest  truth,  and  if  I  should 
take  it  back,  'twould  be  a  lie." 

This  was  not  making  matters  much  better. 
Florence  put  on  her  hood,  and  tied  it  with 
a  twitch. 

"  But  I  like  you  ever  so  much,  Flossy ; 
now,  you  know  I  do.  You're  hateful  some- 
times ;  but  so  am  I ;  and  I  can't  tell  which  is 
the  hatefulest." 

Here  Flossy,  who  was  as  fickle  as  the 
wind,  laughed  merrily,  took  off  her  hood 
and  cloak,  and  danced  about  the  room  in 
high  spirits. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "I'll  stay  just  on  purpose 
to  plague  you  ! " 

But  good   humor   had   been  restored   or. 


62  SISTER    SUSY. 

both  sides,  and  the  little  girls  were  soon 
talking  together,  as  freely  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

"Just  come  out  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Susy, 
"and  you  shall  see  me  wash  my  bird." 

"Why,  I  thought  birds  washed  them- 
selves," replied  Florence,  following  her 
cousin  with  some  surprise. 

"They  do,  but  Dandy  won't;  it's  all  in 
the  world  I  have  against  Dandy ;  he  isn't  a 
cold-water  bird." 

Grandma  Read  stood  by  the  kitchen  table, 
clear-starching  one  of  her  caps  —  a  piece  of 
work  which  she  always  performed  with  her 
own  hands.  She  moved  one  side  to  make 
room  for  Susy's  bird-cage,  but  said  she  did 
not  approve  of  washing  canaries  ;  she  thought 
it  must  be  a  dangerous  experiment. 

"If  he  needed  a  bath,  he  would  take  it 
himself,  Susan.  Little  birds  know  what  is 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE  .  63 

best  for  thgm  by  instinct,  thee  may  depend 
upon  it." 

"  But  my  birdie  gay  ought  to  be  clean," 
persisted  Susy,  who  was  often  very  positive. 
^Mrs.  Mason  says  so — the  lady  that  gave 
him  to  me.  I  told  her  he  wouldn't  bathe, 

and  she  said  then  I  must  bathe  him." 

* 
Susy   went   to   the    range,    and,    dipping 

some  hot  water  from  the  boiler,  cooled  it 
with  fresh  water,  till  she  found,  by  putting 
in  her  fingers,  that  it  was  of  a  proper  tem- 
perature, according  to  her  own  judgment. 
Then  she  plunged  the  timid  little  canary  into 
the  bowl,  in  spite  of  his  fluttering.  Such  a 
wee  young  thing  as  he  was  too  !  He  seemed 
to  be  afraid  of  the  water,  and  struggled 
against  it  with  all  his  small  strength. 

"O,  Dandy,  darling,"  said  Susy,  in  a 
cooing  voice,  as  if  she  were  talking  to  a 
baby  ;  "  be  a  little  man,  Dandy ;  hold  up  his 


64  SISTER    SUSY. 

head,  and  let  Susy  wash  it  all  cleany !  O, 
he's  Susie's  birdie  gay  !  —  AVhat  makes  him 
roll  up  his  eyes?" 

*  Take  him  out  quick,  Susan,"  said  grand^ 
ma  Reed  ;  "  he  will  strangle." 

A  few  seconds  more  and  all  would  have 
been  over  with  birdie  gay.  He  curled  down 
very  languidly  on  the  floor  of  the  cage,  and 
seemed  to  wish  to  be  let  alone. 

"  He  acts  so  every  morning  when  I  bathe 
him,"  said  Susy,  who  would  not  give  up  the 
point;  "but  Mrs.  Mason  told  me  to  do  it! 
Dotty  always  cried  when  she  was  washed, 
till  she  was  ever  so  old." 

"  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Parlin,  who  had  just 
entered  the  kitchen,  "I  must  ask  Mrs.  Mason 
if  she  is  very  sure  it  is  proper  to  treat  little 
birds  in  that  way." 

w  But  look,  mamma ;  here  he  is,  shaking 
,out  his  feathers,  all  bright  and  happy  again. 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE.  65 

O,  you  cunning  little  Dandy,  now  we'll 
hang  you  up  in  the  sun  to  dry.  See  him 
hop  on  one  foot ;  that  is  just  to  make  me 
laugh." 

"  But  /  hop  on  one  foot,  too,"  said  little 
Prudy,  "  and  you  don't  laugh  at  me." 

"This  is  a  droll  little  head  for  fancies," 
said  Mrs.  Parlin,  patting  Prudy 's  curls,  and 
looking  at  grandma  Reed.  "  Do  you  knoAv, 
mother,  that  for  several  days  she  has  made 
believe  she  was  lame  Jessie,  and  has  hobbled 
about  whenever  she  could  think  of  it." 

w  Now  you  mustn't  laugh,"  said  Prudy, 
looking  up  with  a  grieved  face ;  I  can't 
never  help  hopping ;  I  have  to  hop.  My 
knee  was  so  sick,  I  cried  last  night,  and 
I  was  just  as  wide-awakefitU " 

"Aint  thee  afraid  the  child  has  been  hurt 
in  some  way,  my  daughter?"  said  grandma 
Bead. 


66  SISTER    SUSY. 

* 

"  O,  no,  mother,"  said  Mrs.Parlin,  smiling, 
as  Prucly  limped  out  of  the  room.  "I  have 
examined  her  knee,  and  there  is  nothing  the 
matter  with  it.  She  is  only  imitating  that 
lame  child.  You  know  Prudy  has  all  sorts 
of  whims.  Don't  you  know  how  she  has 
wanted  us  to  call  her  Jessie  sometimes  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  indeed,  grandma,  she  isn't 
lame,"  said  Susy,  laughing.  "Sometimes  she 
will  run  about  the  room  as  well  as  I  do, 
and  then,  in  a  few  minutes,  when  she  thinks 
of  it,  she  will  limp  and  take  hold  of  chairs. 
Mother,  isn't  it  just  the  same  as  a  wrong 
story  for  Prudy  to  act  that  way?  If  I 
did  so,  you'd  punish  me ;  now,  wouldn't 
you?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  about  it," 
said  Mrs.  Parlin,  gravely.  "Sometimes  J 
am  afraid  Prudy  is  really  becoming  naughty 
and.  deceitful.  I  thought  once  it  was  only 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE.  67 

her  funny  way  of  playing ;  but  she  is  getting 
old  enough  now  to  know  the  difference  be- 
tween truth  and  falsehood." 

There  was  an  anxious  look  on  Mrs.  Par- 
lin's  face.  She  was  a  faithful  mother,  and 
watched  her  children's  conduct  with  the 
tenderest  care. 

But  this  lameness  of  which  little  Prudy 
complained,  was  something  more  than  play ; 
it  was  a  sad  truth,  as  the  family  learned 
very  soon.  Instead  of  walking  properly 
when  her  mother  bade  her  do  so,  the 
poor  child  cried  bitterly,  said  it  hurt  her, 
and  she  was  so  tired  she  wished  they  would 
let  her  lie  on  the  sofa,  and  never  get  up. 
At  times  she  seemed  better  ;  and  when  every- 
body thought  she  was  quite  well,  suddenly 
the  pain  and  weakness  would  come  again, 
and  she  could  only  limp,  or  walk  by  catch- 
ing hold  of  chairs. 


68  SISTEK   SUSY. 

At  last  her  father  called   in   a   physician. 

"How  long  has  this  child  been  lame?" 
said  he. 

"  A  month  or  more." 

The  doctor  looked  grave.  "Has  she  ever 
had  an  injury,  Mr.  Parlin,  such  as  slipping 
on  the  ice,  or  falling  down  stairs?" 

"Xo,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Parlin,  "I  believe 
not." 

"Xot  a  serious  injury  that  I  know  of," 
said  Mrs.  Parlin,  passing  her  hand  across  her 
forehead,  and  trying  to  remember.  "Xo,  I 
think  Prudy  has  never  had  a  bad  fall,  though 
she  is  always  meeting  with  slight  accidents." 

"O,  mamma,"  said  Susy,  who  had  begged 
to  stay  in  the  room,  "she  did  have  a  fall: 
don't  you  know,  Christmas  day,  ever  so  long 
ago,  how  she  went  rolling  down  stairs  with 
her  little  chair  in  her  arms,  and  woke  every- 
body up  ?  " 

The  doctor  caught  at  Susy's  words. 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE.  6? 

"With  her  little  chair  in  her  arms,  my 
dear  ?  And  did  she  cry  as  if  she  was  hurt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  she  said  the  prongs  of  the 
ehair  stuck  into  her  side." 

"It  hurt  me  dreffully,"  said  Prudy,  who 
had  until  now  forgotten  all  about  it.  "Susy 
spoke  so  quick,  and  said  I  was  a  little  snail ; 
and  then  I  rolled  over  and  over,  and  down  I 
went." 

The  doctor  almost  smiled  at  these  words, 
lisped  out  in  such  a  plaintive  voice,  as  if 
Prudy  could  not  think  of  that  fall  even  now, 
without  pitying  herself  very  much. 

"Just  let  me  see  you  stand  up,  little 
daughter,"  said  he ;  for  Prudy  was  lying  on 
the  sofa. 

But  it  hurt  her  to  bear  her  weight  on  her 
t'eet. 

She  said,  "One  foot,  the  ^lame-knee-foot,' 
came  down  so  long,  it  more  than  touched  the 
floor." 


70  SISTER   SUSY. 

The  doctor  looked  sober.  The  foot  did 
drag  indeed.  The  trouble  was  not  in  her 
knee,  but  in  her  hip,  which  had  really  been 
injured  when  she  fell  down  stairs,  and  the 
"  prongs  "  of  the  chair  were  forced  against  it. 

It  seemed  to  Mrs.  Parlin  strange  that 
Prudy  had  never  complained  of  any  pain  in 
her  side ;  but  the  doctor  said  it  was  very 
common  for  people  to  suffer  from  hip-disease, 
and  seem  to  have  only  a  lame  knee. 

"Hip-disease  !  "  When  Mrs.  Parlin  heard 
these  words,  she  grew  so  dizzy,  that  it  was 
all  she  could  do  to  keep  from  fainting.  It 
came  over  her  in  a  moment,  the  thought  of 
what  her  little  daughter  would  have  to  suffer 
—  days  and  nights  of  pain,  and  perhaps  a 
whole  lifetime  of  lameness.  She  had  often 
heard  of  hip-disease,  and  was  aware  that  it 
is  a  very  serious  thing. 

Do   you   know,    she   would   gladly   have 


PRUDY'S  TROUBLE.  71 

changed  places  with  Prudy,  would  gladly 
have  borne  all  the  child  must  suffer,  if  by 
that  means  she  could  have  saved  her?  This 
is  the  feeling  which  mothers  have  when  any 
trouble  comes  upon  their  children;  but  the 
little  ones,  with  their  simple  minds,  cannot 
understand  it. 


SISTER    SUSY. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

ROSY    FRANCES    EASTMAN    MARY. 

PRUDY  had  enjoyed  a  great  many  rides  in 
Susy's  beautiful  sleigh ;  but  now  the  doctor 
forbade  her  going  out,  except  for  very  short 
distances,  and  even  then,  he  said,  she  must 
sit  in  her  mother's  lap.  He  wanted  her  to 
lie  down  nearly  all  the  time,  and  keep  very 
quiet. 

At  first,  Mrs.  Parlin  wondered  how  it 
would  be  possible  to  keep  such  a  restless 
child  quiet;  but  she  found,  as  time  passed, 
and  the  disease  made  progress,  that  poor 
little  Prudy  was  only  too  glad  to  lie  still. 
Every  motion  seemed  to  hurt  her,  and  some- 


ROSY    FRANCES    EASTMAN   MARY.  73 

times  she  cried  if  any  one  even  jarred  the 
sofa  suddenly. 

These  were  dark  days  for  everybody  in 
the  house.  Susy,  who  was  thoughtful  be- 
yond her  years,  suffered  terribly  from  anx- 
iety about  her  little  sister.  More  than  that, 
she  suffered  from  remorse. 

"  O,  grandma  Read,"  said  she  one  evening, 
as  she  sat  looking  up  at  the  solemn,  shining 
stars,  with  overflowing  eyes  —  f?O,  grand- 
ma !  "  The  words  came  from  the  depths  of 
a  troubled  heart.  "  I  may  live  to  be  real 
old ;  but  I  never  shall  be  happy  again !  I 
can't,  for,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me,  Prudy 
would  be  running  round  the  house  as  well  as 
ever ! " 

Mrs.  Read  had.  a  gentle,  soothing  voice. 
She  could  comfort  Susy  when  anybody  could. 
Now  she  tried  to  set  her  heart  at  rest  Ivy 
saying  that  the  doctor  gave  a  great  deal  of 


74  SISTER    SUSY. 

hope.  He  could  not  promise  a  certain  cure, 
but  he  felt  great  faith  in  a  new  kind  of 
splint  which  he  was  using  for  Prudy's  hip. 

"O,  grandma,  it  may  be,  and  then,  again, 
it  may  not  be,"  sobbed  poor  Susy;  "we 
can't  tell  what  God  will  think  best ;  but  any 
how,  it  was  I  that  did  it." 

"But,  Susan,  thee  must  think  how  inno- 
cent thee  was  of  any  wrong  motive.  Thee 
did  not  get  angry,  and  push  thy  little  sister, 
thee  knows  thee  didn't,  Susan !  Thee  was 
only  in  a  hurry,  and  rather  thoughtless. 
The  best  of  us  often  do  very  foolish  things, 
and  cause  much  mischief;  but  thee'll  find  it 
isn't  best  to  grieve  over  these  mistakes. 
Why,  my  dear  little  Susan,  I  have  lived 
eight  years  to  thy  one,  and  if  I  should  sit 
down  now  and  drop  a  tear  for  every  blunder 
I  have  made,  I  don't  know  but  I  could  al- 
most make  a  fountain  of  myself,  like  thai 
Ionian  thee  tells  about  in  the  fairy  story." 


ROSY   FRANCES    EASTMAN   MARY.  75 

"The  fountain  of  Pirene  that  Pegasus 
loved,"  said  Susy ;  "that  was  the  name  of  it. 
Why,  grandma,  I  never  should  have  thought 
of  your  saying  such  a  queer  thing  as  that ! 
Why,  it  seems  as  if  you  always  did  just 
right,  and  thought  it  all  over  before  you  did 
it.  Do  you  ever  do  wrong?  How  funny  !" 

Mrs.  Read  smiled  sadly..  She  was  not  an 
angel  yet ;  so  I  suppose  she  did  wrong  once 
in  a  while. 

"Now,  grandma,  I  want  to  ask  you  one 
question,  real  sober  and  honest.  You  know 
it  was  so  dark  that  morning  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  when  we  were  going  down  the 
back  stairs  ?  Now,  if  I'd  made  a  great  deal 
worse  mistake  than  calling  Prudy  a  snail,  — 
if  I'd  pushed  her  real  hard,  and  she  had 
fallen  faster,  —  O,  I  can't  bear  to  think  !  I 
mean,  if  the  chair-prongs  had  hit  her  head, 
grandma  —  and  —  killed  her  !  -What  would 


,76  SISTER    SUSY. 

they  have  done  to  me  9  I  thought  about 
it  last  night,  so  I  couldn't  go  to  sleep  for 
the  longest  while  !  I  heard  the  clock  strike 
once  while  I  was  awake  there  in  bed  !  Would 
they  have  put  me  in  the  lock-up,  grandma, 
and  then  hung  me  for  murder  ?  " 

"My  dear  child,  no,  indeed!  How  came 
such  horrible  ideas  in  thy  tender  little  brain  ? 
It  is  too  dreadful  to  think  about ;  but,  even 
if  thy  little  sister  had  died,  Susan,  thee 
would  have  been  no  more  to  blame  than 
thee  is  now,  and  a  great,  great  deal  more 
to  be  pitied." 

Susy  sat  for  a  long  while  gazing  out  of 
the  window ;  but  the  stars  did  not  wink  so 
solemnly ;  the  moon  looked  friendly  once 
more.  Susy  was  drinking  in  her  grand- 
mother's words  of  comfort.  The  look  of 
sadness  was  disappearing  from  her  young 
face,  and  smiles  began  to  play  about  the 
corners  of  her  mouth. 


ROSY   FRANCES    EASTMAN   MARY.  77 

"Well,"  said  she,  starting  up  briskly, 
*  I'm  glad  I  wasn't  so  very  terribly  wicked  \ 
I  wish  I'd  been  somewhere  else,  when  I 
stood  on  those  back-stairs,  in  the  middle  of 
the  night;  but  what's  the  use?  I'm  not 
going  to  think  any  more  about  it,  grandma ; 
for  if  I  should  think  till  my  head  was  all 
twisted  up  in  a  knot,  wThat  good  would  it 
do  ?  It  wouldn't  help  Prudy  any  ;  would  it, 
grandma  ?  " 

"No,  dear,"  said  the  mild,  soothing  voice 
again ;  "  don't  think,  I  beg  of  thee ;  but  if 
thee  wants  to  know  what  would  do  Prudence 
good,  I  will  tell  thee  :  try  thy  best  to  amuse 
her.  She  has  to  lie  day  after  day  and  suffer. 
It  is  very  hard  for  a  little  girl  that  loves  to 
play,  and  can't  read,  and  doesn't  know 
how  to  pass  the  time ;  don't  thee  think  so, 
Susan?" 

It  was   certainly   hard.      Prudy's   round, 


78  SISTER    SUSY. 

rosy  face  began  to  grow  pale ;  and,  instead 
of  laughing  and  singing  half  the  time,  she 
would  now  lie  and  cry  from  pain,  or  because 
she  really  did  not  know  what  else  to  do 
with  herself. 

It  was  worst  at  night.  Hour  after  hour, 
she  would  lie  awake,  and  listen  to  the 
ticking  of  the  clock.  Susy  thought  it  a 
pitiable  case,  when  she  heard  the  clock  strike 
once;  but  little  Prudy  heard  it  strike  again 
and  again.  How  strangely  it  pounded  out 
the  strokes  in  the  night !  What  a  dreary 
sound  it  was,  pealing  through  the  silence  ! 
The  echoes  answered  with  a  shudder.  Then, 
when  Prudy  had  counted  one,  two,  three, 
four,  and  the  clock  had  no  more  to  say  at 
that  time,  it  began  to  tick  again :  "  Prudy's 
sick  !  Prudy's  sick  !  O,  dear  me  !  O,  dear 
me !" 

Prudy   could   hardly   believe   it   was   the 


PRUDY   AND   SUSY   SLEIGHING.  -  Pajre  72. 


ROSY   FRANCES    EASTMAN   MARY.  79 

came  clock  she  saw  in  the  daytime.  She 
wondered  if  it  felt  lonesome  in  the  night, 
and  had  the  blues ;  or  what  could  ail  it ! 
The  poor  little  girl  wanted  somebody  to 
speak  to  in  these  long,  long  hours.  She  did 
not  sleep  with  Susy,  but  in  a  new  cot-bed 
of  her  own,  in  aunt  Madge's  room :  for, 
dearly  as  she  loved  to  lie  close  to  any  one 
she  loved,  she  begged  now  to  sleep  alone, 
"  so  nobody  could  hit  her,  or  move  her,  or 
joggle  her." 

It  was  a  great  comfort  to  have  aunt  Madge 
so  near.  If  it  had  been  Susy  instead,  Prudy 
would  have  had  no  company  but  the  sound 
of  her  breathing.  It  was  of  no  use  to  try 
to  wake  Susy  in  the  dead  of  night.  Prick' 
ing  her  with  pins  would  startle  her,  but  she 
never  knew  anything  even  after  she  was 
startled.  All  she  could  do  was  to  stare 
about  her,  cry,  and  act  very  cross,  and  then 
' — go  to  sleep  again. 


80  SISTER    SUSY. 

But  with  aunt  Madge  it  was  quite  differ- 
ent. She  slept  like  a  cat,  with  one  eye 
open.  Perhaps  the  reason  she  did  not 
sleep  more  soundly,  was,  that  she  felt  a 
care  of  little  Prudy.  Xo  matter  when  Prudj 
spoke  to  her,  aunt  Madge  always  answered. 
She  did  not  say,  w  O,  dear,  you've  startled 
me  out  of  a  delicious  nap ! "  She  said, 
"Well,  darling,  wrhat  do  you  want?"  Prudy 
generally  wanted  to  know  when  it  would 
be  morning?  When  would  the  steamboat 
whistle?  What  made  it  stay  dark  so  long? 
She  wanted  a  drink  of  wrater,  and  always 
wanted  a  story. 

If  aunt  Madge  had  forgotten  to  provide 
a  glass  of  wrater,  she  put  on  her  slippers, 
lighted  the  little  handled  lamp,  and  stole 
softly  down  stairs  to  the  pail,  which  Xorah 
always  pumped  full  of  well-water  the  last 
thing  in  the  evening. 


ROSY   FRANCES    EASTMAN    MARY.  81 

Or,  if  Prudy  fancied  it  would  console  hei 
to  have  a  peep  at  her  beautiful  doll  which 
"would  be  alive  if  it  could  speak,"  why, 
down  stairs  went  auntie  again  to  search  out 
the  spot  where  Susy  had  probably  left  it 
when  "  she  took  it  to  show  to  some  chil- 
dren." 

The  many,  many  times  that  kind  young 
lady  crept  shivering  down  stairs  to  humor 
Prudy's  whims !  Prudy  could  not  have 
counted  the  times ;  and  you  may  be  sure 
aunt  Madge  never  would. 

Then  the  stories,  both  sensible  and  silly ^ 
which  Prudy  teased  for,  and  always  got ! 
Aunt  Madge  poured  them  forth  like  water 
into  the  sieve  of  Prudy's  mind,  which  could 
not  hold  stories  any  better,  than  secrets. 
No  matter  how  many  she  told,  Prudy  in- 
sisted that  she  wanted  "one  more,"  and  the 
*  same  one  over  again." 


82  SISTER   SUSY. 

It  touched  Susy  to  the  heart  to  see  how 
much  her  little  sister  suffered,  and  she  spent 
a  great  deal  of  time  at  first  in  trying  to 
amuse  her.  Aunt  Madge  told  stories  in  the 
night;  but  Susy  told  them  in  the  daytime, 
till,  as  she  expressed  it,  her  "tongue  ached." 
She  cut  out  paper  dolls  when  she  wanted 
to  read,  and  played  go  visiting,  or  dressed 
rag  babies,  when  she  longed  to  be  out  of 
doors.  But  while  the  novelty  lasted,  she 
was  quite  a  Florence  Nightingale. 

Her  Wednesday  and  Saturday  afternoons 
were  no  longer  her  own.  Before  Prudy's 
lameness,  Susy  had  used  her  new  skates  a 
great  deal,  and  could  now  skim  over  the  ice 
quite  gracefully,  for  a  little  girl  of  her  age. 
The  reason  she  learned  to  skate  so  'well, 
was  because  she  was  fearless.  Most  children 
tremble  when  they  try  to  stand  on  the  ice, 
and  for  that  very  reason  are  nearly  sure  to 


ROSY    FRANCES    EASTMAN    MARY.  83 

fall ;  but  Susy  did  not  tremble  in  the  facfc 
of  danger  :  she  had  a  strong  will  of  her  own^, 
and  never  expected  to  fail  in  anything  sh& 
undertook. 

She  had  spent  half  of  her  short  life  out 
of  doors,  and  almost  considered  it  lost  time 
when  she  was  obliged  to  stay  in  the  house 
for  the  rain- 

Mrs.  Parlin  kept  saying  it  was  high  time 
for  her  eldest  daughter  to  begin  to  be  wo- 
manly, and  do  long  stints  with  her  needle : 
she  could  not  sew  as  well  now  as  she  sewed 
two  years  ago. 

But  Mr.  Parlin  laughed  at  his  wife's  anx- 
iety, and  said  he  loved  Susy's  red  cheeks ; 
he  didn't  care  if  she  grew  as  brown  as  an. 
Indian.  She  was  never  rude  or  coarse,  he 
thought ;  and  she  would  be  womanly  enough 
one  of  these  days,  he  was  quite  sure. 

"  Anything,"  said  Mr.  Farlin,  "  but  these 


84  GISTER    SUSY. 

womanly  little  girls,  such  as  I  have  seen 
sitting  in  a  row,  sewing  seams,  without  ani- 
mation enough  to  tear  rents  in  their  own 
dresses  !  If  Susy  loves  birds,  and  flowers, 
and  snowbanks,  I  am  thankful,  and  perfectly 
willing  she  should  have  plenty  of  them  for 
playthings." 

Then,  when  Mrs.  Parlin  smiled  mischiev- 
ously, and  said,  ff  I  should  like  to  know  what 
sort  of  a  wild  Arab  you  would  make  out  of 
a  little  girl,"  Mr.  Parlin  answered  triumph- 
antly,— 

"  Look  at  my  sister  Margaret !  I  brought 
her  up  my  own  self !  I  always  took  her  out 
in  the  woods  with  me,  gunning  and  trouting. 
I  taught  her  how  tp  skate  when  she  was  a 
mere  baby.  I  often  said  she  was  all  the 
brother  I  had  in  the  world !  She  can  re- 
member  now  how  I  used  to  wrap  her  in 
shawls,  and  prop  her  up  on  the  woodpile, 
while  I  chopped  wood." 


ROSY   FRANCES    EASTMAN    MARY.  85 

"And  how  you  hired  her  to  drop  ears  of 
corn  for  you  into  the  corn-sheller ;  and  how, 
one  day,  her  fingers  were  so  benumbed, 
that  one  of  them  was  clipped  off  before  she 
knew  it ! " 

"Well,  so  it  was,  that  is  true;  but  only 
the  tip  of  it.  Active  children  will  meet 
with  accidents.  She  was  a  regular  little 
fly-away,  and  would  sooner  climb  a  tree 
or  a  ladder  any  time,  than  walk  on  solid 
ground.  Now  look  at  her  !  " 

And  Mr.  Parlin  repeated  the  words, 
"Xow  look  at  her,"  as  if  he  was  sure  his 
wife  must  confess  that  she  was  a  remarkable 
person. 

Mrs.  Parlin  said,  if  Susy  should  ever 
become  half  as  excellent  and  charming  as 
Miss  Margaret  Parlin,  she  should  be  per- 
fectly satisfied,  for  her  part. 

Thus  Susy  was  allowed   to  romp  to  her 


86  SISTER    SUSY. 

heart's  content;  "fairly  ran  wild,"  as  aunt 
Eastman  declared,  with  a  frown  of  disap- 
proval. She  gathered  wild  roses,  and  wore 
them  in  her  cheeks,  the  very  best  place  in 
the  world  for  roses.  She  drank  in  sunshine 
with  the  fresh  air  of  heaven,  just  as  the 
flowers  do,  and  thrived  on  it. 

But  there  was  one  objection  to  this  out- 
of-doors  life :  Susy  did  not  love  to  stay  ii 
the  house.  Rainy  days  and  evenings,  to  be 
sure,  she  made  herself  very  happy  with 
reading,  for  she  loved  to  read,  particularly 
fairy  books,  and  Hollo's  Travels. 

But  now,  just  as  she  had  learned  to  skate 
on  the  basin  with  other  little  girls  and  young 
ladies,  and  could  drive  Wings  anywhere  and 
everywhere  she  pleased,  it  wras  a  sore  trial 
to  give  up  these  amusements  .for  the  sake 
of  spending  more  hours  with  poor  little 
Prudy.  She  was  very  self-denying  at  first. 


ROSY   FRANCES    EASTMAN   MARY.  87 

but  it  grew  to  be  an  "  old  story."  She  found 
it  was  not  only  pony  and  skates  she  must 
give  up,  but  even  her  precious  reading,  for 
Prudy  was  jealous  of  books,  and  did  not 
like  to  have  Susy  touch  them.  She  thought 
Susy  was  lost  to  her  when  she  opened  a 
book,  and  might  as  well  not  be  in  the  house, 
for  she  never  heard  a  word  that  anybody 
said. 

Now  I  know  just  what  you  will  think : 
"O,  I  would  have  given  up  a  great  deal 
more  than  ponies  and  books  for  my  dear 
little  sister !  I  would  have  told  her  stories, 
and  never  have  complained  that  my  '  tongue 
ached.'  It  would  not  have  wearied  me  to 
do  anything  and  everything  for  such  a  patient 
sufferer  as  little  Prudy  !  " 

But  now  I  shall  be  obliged  to  confess  one 
thing,  which  I  would  have  gladly  concealed. 

Prudy   was    not    always   patient.      Some 


88  SISTER   SUSY. 

sweet  little  children  become  almost  like  the 
angels  when  sickness  is  laid  upon  them ;  but 
Prudy  had  been  such  a  healthy,  active  child, 
that  the  change  to  perfect  quiet  was  exceed- 
ingly tiresome.  She  was  young,  too,  —  too 
young  to  reason  about  the  uses  of  suffering. 
She  only  knew  she  was  dreadfully  afflicted, 
and  thought  everybody  ought  to  amuse 
her. 

"O,  dear  me  !"  said  Susy,  sometimes,  "I 
just  believe  the  more  anybody  does  for 
Prudy,  the  more  she  expects." 

Xow  this  was  really  the  case.  When  Prudy 
first  began  to  lie  upon  the  sofa:  .everybody 
pitied  her,  and  tried  to  say  and  do  funny 
things,  in  order  to  take  up  her  attention. 
It  was  not  possible  to  keep  on  giving  so 
much  time  to  her;  but  Prudy  expected  it. 
She  would  lie  very  pleasant  and  happy  fcr 
hours  at  a  time,  counting  the  things  in  tho 


ROSY    FRANCES    EASTMAX    MARY.  89 

room,  talking  to  herself,  or  humming  little 
tunes ;  and  then,  again,  everything  would 
go  wrong.  Her  playthings  would  keep  fall- 
ing to  the  floor,  and,  as  she  could  not  stoop 
at  all,  some  one  must  come  and  pick  them 
up  that  very  minute,  or  they  "  didn't  pity 
her  a  bit." 

Every  once  in  a  while,  she  declared  her 
knee  was  "  broke  in  seven  new  places,"  and 
the  doctor  must  come  and  take  off  the  splint. 
She  didn't  want  such  a  hard  thing  "  right  on 
there  ;  "  she  wanted  it  "  right  off." 

Her  mother  told  her  she  must  try  to  be 
patient,  and  be  one  of  God's  little  girls. 
"But,  mamma,"  said  Prudy,  "does  God  love 
me  any?  I  should  think,  if  he  loved  me, 
he'd  be  sorrier  I  was  sick,  and  get  me 
well." 

Then,  sometimes,  when  she  had  been  more 
fretful  than  usual,  she  would  close  her  eyes, 


90  SISTER   SUSY. 

and  her  mother  would  hear  her  say,  in  a 
low  voice, — 

"  O,  God,  I  didu't  mean  to.  It's  my  knee 
that's  cross !  " 

Upon  the  whole,  I  think  Prudy  was  as 
patient  as  most  children  of  her  age  would 
have  been  under  the  same  trial.  Her  father 
and  mother,  who  had  the  most  care  of  her, 
did  not  wonder  in  the  least  that  her  poor 
little  nerves  got  tired  out  bometimes. 

While  Susy  was  at  school,  Prudy  had  a 
long  time  to  think  what  she  wanted  her  to 
do  wrhen  she  should  come  home.  She  would 
lie  and  watch  the  clock,  for  she  had  learned 
to  tell  the  time  quite  well;  and  when  the 
hour  drew  near  for  Susy  to  come,  she  moved 
her  head  on  the  pillow,  and  twisted  her 
fingers  together  nervously. 

If  Susy  was  in  good  season,  Prudy  put 
up  her  little  mouth  for  a  kiss,  and  said,  — 


ROSY    FRANCES    EASTMAN   MARY.  91 

"O,  how  I  do  love  you,  Susy!  Ain't  I 
your  dear  little  sister?  Well,  won't  you 
make  me  a  lady  on  the  slate  ?  " 

Susy's  ladies  had  no  necks,  and  their 
heads  were  driven  down  on  their  shoulders, 
as  if  they  were  going  to  be  packed  into 
their  chests  ;  but,  such  as  they  were,  Prudy 
wanted  them  over  and  over  again. 

But  if  Susy  stopped  to  slide,  or  to  play 
by  the  way,  she  would  find  little  Prudy  in 
tears,  and  hear  her  say,  "  O,  what  made 
you?  Naughty,  naughty  old  Susy!  I'm 
goin'  to  die,  and  go  to  God's  house,  and 
then  you'll  be  sorry  you  didn't  'tend  to  your 
little  sister." 

Susy  could  never  bear  to  hear  Prudy 
talk  about  going  to  God's  house.  Her  con- 
science pricked  her  when  she  saw  that  the 
poor  child  was  grieved  ;  and  she  resolved, 
every  time  she  was  late,  that  she  would 
never  be  late  again. 


92  SISTER    SUSY. 

Prudy  had  a  great  many  odd  fancies  now  : 
among  others,  she  had  a  fancy  that  she  did 
not  like  the  name  of  Prudy. 

"Why,  only  think,"  said  she,  "you  keep 
a-calling  me  Prudy,  and  Prudy,  and  Prudy. 
It  makes  my  head  ache,  to  have  you  say 
Prudy  so  much." 

"But,  my  dear  child,"  said  Mr.  Parlin, 
smiling,  "it  happens,  unfortunately,  that 
Prudy  is  your  name ;  so  I  think  you  will 
have  to  try  and  bear  it  as  well  as  you 
can." 

"But  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer,"  said  the 
child,  bursting  into  tears.  "Prudy  is  all 
lame  and  sick,  and  I  never  shall  walk  any 
more  while  you  call  me  Prudy,  papa." 

Mr.  Parlin  kissed  his  little  daughter's 
pale  cheek,  and  said,  "Then  we  will  call 
you  pet  names ;  will  that  do  ? " 

Prudy  smiled  with  delight. 


ROSY    FRANCES    EASTMAX    3IARY.  93 

"I've  thought  of  a  real  beautiful,  splendid 
name,"  said  she.  "It  is  Rosy  Frances  East- 
man Mary  ;  ain't  it  splendid  ?  " 

After  this  announcement,  Prudy  expected 
the  family  would  be  sure  to  call  her  Rosy 
Frances  Eastman  Mary;  and,  indeed,  they 
were  quite  willing  to  please  her,  whenever 
they  could  remember  the  name.  They  all 
supposed  it  was  a  fancy  she  would  forget 
in  a  day  or  two ;  but,  instead  of  that,  she 
clung  to  it  more  and  more  fondly.  If  any 
one  oifered  her  an  orange,  or  roasted  apple, 
and  said,  "  Look,  Prudy  ;  here  is  something 
nice  for  you,"  she  would  turn  her  face  over 
to  one  side  on  the  pillow,  and  make  no 
reply.  If  she  wanted  a  thing  very  much, 
she  would  never  accept  it  when  she  was  ad- 
dressed by  the  obnoxious  name  of  Prudy. 
Even  when  her  father  wanted  to  take  her 
in  his  arms  to  rest  her,  and  happened  to 


94  SISTER   SUSY. 

say,  "Prudy,  shall  I  hold  you  a  little 
while?"  she  would  say,  "Who  was  you 
a-talkin'  to,  papa?  There  isn't  any  Prucly 
here ! "  Then  her  father  had  to  humble 
himself,  and  ask  to  be  forgiven  for  being 
so  forgetful. 

The  child  had  a  delicate  appetite,  and  her 
mother  tried  to  tempt  it  with  little  niceties  ; 
but,  no  matter  what  pains  she  took,  Prudy 
relished  nothing  unless  it  was  given  to  her 
as  Rosy  Frances,  the  little  girl  who 'was  not 
Prudy. 

frO,  here  is  a  glass  of  lemonade  for  you, 
Prudy ;  made  on  purpose  for  you,"  Susy 
Would  say  ;  "  do  drink  it !  " 

"O,  dear  me,  suz,"  cried  Prudy,  with 
tears  falling  over  her  cheeks;  "O,  Susy, 
you  plague  me,  and  I  never  done  a  thing 
to  you  I  You  called  me  Prudy,  and  I  ain't 
Prudy,  never  again  !  Call  me  Rosy  Frances 


ROSY   FRANCES    EASTMAN   MARY.  95 

Eastman  Mary,  and  I'll  drink  the  lemon- 
ade." 

"You  precious  little  sister,"  said  Susy, 
bending  over  her  gently,  "you'll  forgive  me  ; 
won't  you,  darling?" 

"I'll  try  to."  replied  Prudv»  with  a  look 
of  meek  forbearance,  as  she  sipped  the  lem- 
onade. 

7 


86  SISTER   SUSY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LITTLE    TROUBLES. 

SOMEBODY  said  once  to  Susy  and  Flossy, 
when  they  were  having  a  froLc  in  "Prudy's 
sitting-room,"  up  stairs,  "  What  happy  little 
things  !  You  don't  know  what  trouble  is, 
and  never  will,  till  you  grow  up  !  " 

The  little  girls  preserved  a  respectful 
silence,  till  the  lady  was  out  of  hearing,  and 
then  held  an  indignant  discussion  as  to  the 
truth  of  what  she  had  said.  It  would  have 
been  a  discussion,  I  mean,  if  they  had  not 
both  taken  the  same  side  of  the  question. 

"How  she  sighed,"  said  Susy,  "just  as  if 
she  was  the  melancholiest  person  that  ever 


LITTLE    TROUBLES.  97 

was ! "  Susy  was  famous  for  the  use  she 
made  of  adjectives,  forming  the  superlatives 
just  as  it  happened. 

"Yes,  just  the  way,"  responded  Flossy. 
Td  like  to  know  what  ever  happened  to 
her  ?  Pshaw  !  She  laughed  this  afternoon, 
and  ate  apples  fast  enough ! " 

w  O,  she  thinks  she  must  make  believe 
have  a  dreadful  time,  because  she  is  grown 
up,"  said  Susy,  scornfully.  "  She's  forgot 
she  was  ever  a  little  girl !  I've  had  troubles  ; 
I  guess  I  have  !  And  I  know  one  thing,  I 
shall  remember  'em  when  I  grow  up,  and 
not  say,  '  What  happy  little  things ! '  to 
children.  It's  real  hateful !  " 

Little  folks  have  trouble,  to  be  sure. 
Their  hearts  are  full  of  it,  and  running  over, 
sometimes ;  and  how  can  the  largest  heart 
that  ever  beat  be  more  than  full,  and  run- 
ning overf 


98  SISTER    SUSY. 

Susy  had  daily  trials.  They  were  sent  to 
her  because  they  were  good  for  her.  Shad- 
ows and  night-dews  are  good  for  flowers. 
If  the  sun  had  shone  en  Susy  always,  and 
she  had  never  had  any  shadows  and  night- 
dews,  she  would  have  scorched  up  into  a 
selfish  girl. 

One  of  her  trials  was  Miss  Dotty  Dimple. 
Now,  she  loved  Dotty  dearly,  and  considered 
her  funny  all  over,  from  the  crown  of  her 
head  to  the  soles  of  her  little  twinkling  feet, 
which  were  squeezed  into  a  pair  of  gaiters. 
Dotty  loved  those  gaiters  as  if  they  were 
alive.  She  had  a  great  contempt  for  the 
slippers  she  wore  in  the  morning,  but  it  was 
her  "  darliu'  gaiters,"  which  she  put  on  in 
the  afternoon,  and  loved  next  to  father  and 
mother,  and  all  her  best  friends. 

When  ladies  called,  she  stepped  very  brisk- 
ly across  the  floor,  looking  down  at  her  feet, 


LITTLE    TROUBLES.  99 

and  tiptoeing  about,  till  the  ladies  smiled, 
and  said,  "O,  what  sweet  little  boots !"  and 
then  she  was  perfectly  happy. 

Susy  was  not  very  wide  awake  in  the 
morning;  but  Dotty  was  stirring  as  soon 
as  there  was  a  peep  of  light,  and  usually 
stole  into  Susy's  bed  to  have  a  frolic.  Koth- 
ing  but  a  story  would  keep  her  still,  and 
poor  Susy  often  wondered  which  was  harder, 
to  be  used  as  a  football  by  Dotty,  or  to  tell 
stories  with  her  eyes  shut. 

"O,  Dotty  Dimple,  keep  still;  can't  you? 
there's  a  darling,"  she  would  plead,  longing 
for  another  nap  ;  "  don't  kill  me." 

"  No,  no ;  me  won't  kill,"  the  little  one 
would  reply  ;  "  'tisn't  pooty  to  kill !  " 

"  O,  dear,  you  little,  cunning,  darling 
plague  ;  now  hush,  and  let  me  go  to  sleep  ! " 

Then  Dotty  would  plant  both  feet  firmly 
on  Susy's  chest,  and  say,  in  her  teasing 


100  SISTER    SUSY. 

little  voice,  as  troublesome  as  the  hum  of 
a  mosquito,  — 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  'tor y  —  tell  me  a  'tory 
—  tell  me  a  'tory,  Susy." 

"  TTell,  what  do  you  want  to  hear?  ' 

Now,  it  was  natural  for  Susy  to  feel  cross 
when  she  was  sleepy.  It  cost  her  a  hard 
struggle  to  speak  pleasantly,  and  when  she 
succeeded  in  doing  so,  I  set  it  down  as  one 
of  her  greatest  victories  over  herself.  The 
Quaker  motto  of  her  grandmother,  "  Let 
patience  have  her  perfect  work,"  helped  her 
sometimes,  when  she  could  wake  up  enough 
to  remember  it. 

"Tell  'bout  little  yellow  gell,"  said  the 
voice  of  the  musquito,  over  and  over  again. 

Susy  roused  herself  after  the  third  re- 
quest, and  sleepily  asked  if  something  else 
wouldn't  do  ? 

"  I  had  a  little  nobby-colt." 


LITTLE    TROUBLES.  101 

"No,  no,  you  di'rft,  you  di'rft;  grand- 
ma had  the  nobby  !  Tell  yellow  gell." 

"  O,"  sighed  Susy,  w  how  can  you  want  to 
hear  that  so  many,  many  times?  Well, 
once  when  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  girl " 

"  'Bout's  big  as  me,  you  said,"  put  in 
Dotty. 

>fO,  yes,  I  did  say  so  once,  and  I  suppose 
I  must  tell  it  so  every  time,  or  you'll  fuss ! 
Well,  I  had  a  yellow  dress  all  striped  off  in 
checks " 

"Di'n't  it  go  this  way?"  said  Dotty, 
smoothing  the  sheet  with  her  little  hand, 
"  and  this  way  ?  " 

"What?  What?"  Susy  roused  herself 
and  rubbed  her  eyes.  "  O,  yes,  it  went  in 
checks  ;  und  I  was  at  grandma  Parlin's,  and 
Grace  —  Grace  —  O,  Grace  and  I  went  into 
the  pasture  where  there  were  a  couple  of 
cows,  a  gray  cow  and  a  red  cow." 


102  SISTER    SUSY. 

"Now  you  must  say  what  is  couple," 
says  Dotty. 

"Then  what  is  couple?" 

"  Gray  cow,"  answers  Dotty,  very  gravely. 

"  So  when  the  cows  saw  us  coming,  they  — 
they  —  O,  they  threw  up  their  heads,  and 
stopped  eating  grass  —  in  the  air.  I  mean 
—  threw  —  up  —  their  heads."  Susy  was 
nearly  asleep. 

"Up  in  the  air?" 

"Yes,  of  course,  up  in  the  air.  (There, 
I  will  wake  up  !)  And  the  gray  cow  began 
to  run  towards  us,  and  Grace  says  to  me, 
'  O,  my,  she  thinks  you're  a  pumpkin  ! ' ' 

"You?" 

"Yes,  me,  because  my  dress  was  so  yel- 
low. I  was  just  as  afraid  of  the  cow  as  I 
could  be." 

"  Good  cow  !     He  wouldn't  hurt ! " 

"  No,  the  cow  was  good,  and  didn't  think 


LITTLE   TROUBLES.  103 

I  was  a  pumpkin,  not  the  least  speck.  But 
I  was  so  afraid,  that  I  crept  under  the  bars, 
and  ran  home." 

"To  grandma's  house?" 
"  Yes ;  and  grandma  laughed." 
"  Well,    where   was   me  ? "  was   the   next 
question,  after  a  pause. 

Then,  when  the  duty  of  story-telling  was 
performed,  Susy  would  gladly  have  gone 
back  to  "  climbing  the  dream-tree  ;  "  but  no, 
she  must  still  listen  to  Dotty,  though  she  an- 
swered her  questions  in  an  absent-minded 
way,  like  a  person  "  hunting  for  a  forgotten 
dream." 

One  morning  she  was  going  to  ride  with 
her  cousin  Percy.  It  had  been  some  time 
since  she  had  seen  Wings,  except  in  the 
stable,  where  she  visited  him  every  day. 

But  Dotty  had  set  her  heart  on  a  rag-baby 
which  Susy  had  promised  to  dress,  and 


104  SISTER    SUSY. 

Prudy  wa,3  anxious  that  Susy  should  play 
several  games  of  checkers  with  her. 

"  O,  dear,"  said  the  eldest  sister,  with  the 
perplexed  air  of  a  mother  who  has  disobe- 
dient little  ones  to  manage.  "  I  think  I 
have  about  as  much  as  I  can  bear.  The 
children  always  make  a  fuss,  just  as  sure 
as  I  want  to  go  out." 

The  old,  impatient  spirit  wras  rising ;  that 
spirit  which  it  was  one  of  the  duties  of 
Susy's  life  to  keep  under  control. 

She  went  into  the  bathing-room,  and 
drank  off  a  glass  of  cold  water,  and  talked 
to  herself  a  while,  for  she  considered  that 
the  safest  way. 

"Have  I  any  right  to  be  cross?  Yes,  I 
think  I  have.  Here  Dotty  woke  me  up, 
right  iii  the  middle  of  a  dream,  and  I'm 
sleepy  this  minute.  Then  Prudy  is  a  little 
babyish  thing,  and  always  was  —  making  a 


LITTLE    TROUBLES.  105' 

fuss  if  I  forget  to  call  her  Rosy  Frances  1 
Yes,  I'll  l>e  cross,  and  act  just  as  I  want  to. 
It's  too  hard  work  to  keep  pleasant ;  I  won't 
try." 

She  walked  along  to  the  door,  but,  by 
that  time,  the  better  spirit  was  struggling 
to  be  heard. 

"  Now,  Susy  Parlin,"  it  said,  "  you  little 
girl  with  a  pony,  and  a  pair  of  skates,  and 
feet  to  walk  on,  and  everything  you  want, 
ain't  you  ashamed,  when  you  think  of  that 
dear  little  sister  you  pushed  down  stairs  — 
no,  didn't  push  —  that  poor  little  lame 
sister  !  —  O,  hark  !  there  is  your  mother 
winding  up  that  hard  splint !  How  would 
you  feel  with  such  a  thing  on  your  hip? 
Go,  this  minute,  and  comfort  Prudy !  " 

The  impatient  feelings  were  gone  for  that 
time  ;  Susy  had  swallowed  them,  or  they  had 
flown  nut  of  the  window. 


106  SISTER    SUSY. 

"Now  Rosy  Frances  Eastman  Mary," 
said  she,  "if  your  splint  is  all  fixed,  I'll 
comb  your  hair." 

The  splint  was  made  of  hard,  polished 
wood  and  brass.  Under  it  were  strips  of 
plaster  an  inch  wide,  which  wound  round 
and  round  the  poor  wounded  limb.  These 
strips  of  plaster  became  loose,  and  there 
was  a  little  key-hole  in  the  splint,  into 
which  Mrs.  Parlin  put  a  key,  and  wound 
up  and  tightened  the  plaster  every  morn- 
ing. This  operation  did  not  hurt  Prudy 
at  all. 

"Now,"  said  Susy,  after  she  had  combed 
Prudy's  hair  carefully,  and  put  a  net  over 
it,  until  her  mother  should  be  ready  to 
curl  it,  "now  we  will  have  a  game  of 
checkers." 

Prudy  played  in  high  glee,  for  Susy  al- 
lowed her  to  jump  all  her  men,  and  march 


LITTLE   TROUBLES.  107 

triumphantly  into  the  king-row,  at  the  head 
of  a  victorious  army. 

"There,  now,  Rosy,"  said  Susy,  gently, 
*  are  you  willing  to  let  me  go  out  riding  ?  I 
can't  play,  any  more  if  I  ride,  for  I  must 
dress  Dotty 's  doll,  and  feed  my  canary." 

w  O,  well,"  said  Prudy,  considering  the 
matter,  "I'm  sick;  I  tell  you  how  it  is,  I'm 
sick,  you  know;  but  —  well,  you  may  go, 
Susy,  if  you'll  make  up  a  story  as  long  as 
a  mile." 

Susy  really  felt  grateful  to  Prudy,  but 
it  was  her  own  gentle  manner  which  had 
charmed  the  sick  child  into  giving  her 
consent. 

Then  Susy  proceeded  to  dress  Dotty's 
doll  in  a  very  simple  fashion,  with  two  holes 
for  short  sleeves,  and  a  skirt  with  a  raw 
edge ;  but  she  looked  kind  and  pleasant 
while  she  was  at  work,  and  Dotty  was  just 


108  SISTEE    SUSY. 

as  well  pleased  as  if  it  had  been  an  elegant 
costume  she  was  preparing.  And  it  was 
really  good  enough  for  a  poor  deformed 
rag-baby,  with  a  head  shaped  like  a  stove- 
pipe. 

Susy  was  delighted  to  find  how  well  a 
little  patience  served  her  in  amusing  "the 
children."  Next,  she  went  to  give  Dandy 
his  morning  bath.  Mrs.  Parlin  still  thought 
it  a  dangerous  practice,  but  had  not  seen 
Mrs.  Mason,  to  question  her  about  it,  and 
Susy  was  too  obstinate  in  her  opinion  to 
listen  to  her  mother. 

"I  must  do  it,"  said  Susy;  "it  has  been 
ever  so  long  since  Dandy  was  bathed,  and 
I  shouldn't  take  any  comfort  riding,  mamma, 
if  I  didn't  leave  him  clean." 

Susy  plunged  the  trembling  canary  into 
his  little  bathing-bowl,  in  some  haste.  He 
struggled  as  usual,  and  begged,  with  his 


LITTLE    TROUBLES.  105 

Weak,  piping  voice,  to  be  spared  such  an  in- 
fliction. But  Susy  was  resolute. 

w  It'll  do  you  good,  Ducky  Daddies ;  we 
mustn't  have  any  lazy,  dirty  birdies  in  this 
house." 

Ducky  Daddies  rolled  up  his  little  eyes, 
and  gasped  for  breath. 

"  O,  look,  mother  !  "  cried  Susy,  laughing ; 
"how  funny  Dandy  acts  !  Do  you  suppose 
it's  to  make  me  laugh?  O,  is  he  fainting 
away  ?  " 

"  Fainting  away !  My  dear  child,  he  is 
dying !  " 

This  was  the  sad  truth.  Mrs.  Parlin 
fanned  him,  hoping  to  call  back  the  lingering 
breath.  But  it  was  too  late.  One  or  two 
more  throbs,  and  his  frightened  little  heart 
had  ceased  to  beat ;  his  frail  life  had  gone 
out  as  suddenly  as  a  spark  of  fire. 

Susy   was   too    much  shocked  to   speak. 


110  SISTER    SUSY. 

She  stood  holding  the  stiffening  bird  in  her 
hands,  and  gazing  at  it. 

Mrs.  Paiiin  was  very  sorry  for  Susy,  and 
had  too  much  kindness  of  feeling  to  add  to 
her  distress  by  saying,  — 

"You  know  how  I  warned  you,  Susy." 

Susy  was  already  suffering  for  her  ob- 
stinacy and  disregard  of  her  mother's  ad- 
vice ;  and  Mrs.  Parlin  believed  she  would 
lay  the  lesson  to  heart  quite  as  well  without 
more  words.  It  was  a  bitter  lesson.  Susy 
loved  dumb  creatures  dearly,  and  was  just 
becoming  very  fond  of  Dandy. 

In  the  midst  of  her  trouble,  and  while 
her  eyes  were  swollen  with  tears,  her  cousin 
Percy  came  with  Wings  and  the  sleigh  to 
give  her  the  promised  ride.  Susy  no  longer 
cared  for  going  out :  it  seemed  to  her  that 
her  heart  was  almost  broken. 

w  Well,  cousin  Indigo,  what  is  the  mat- 


LITTLE    TROUBLES.  Ill 

ter  ? "  said  Percy ;  w  you  look  as  if  this 
world  was  a  howling  wilderness,  and  you 
wanted  to  howl  too.  What,  crying  over 
that  bird  ?  Poh !  I  can  buy  you  a  screech- 
owl  any  time,  that  will  make  twice  the 
noise  he  could  in  his  best  days.  Come, 
hurry,  and  put  your  things  on ! " 

Susy  buried  her  face  in  her  apron. 

"I'll  compose  a  dirge  for  him,"  said  Percy  e 

"  My  bird  is  dead,  said  Susy  P., 
My  bird  is  dead  ;  O,  deary  me ! 
He  sang  so  sweet,  te  whee,  te  whee ; 
He  sings  no  more  ;  O,  deary  me ! 
Go  hang  his  cage  up  in  the  tree, 
That  cage  I  care  no  more  to  see. 
My  bird  is  dead,  cried  Susy  P." 

These  provoking  words  Percy  drawled  out 
in  a  sing-song  voice.  It  was  too  much. 
Susy  eyes  flashed  through  her  tears. 

w  You've  always  laughed  at  me,  Percy 
Eastman,  and  plagued  me  about  Freddy 


112  SISTER    ST  SY. 

Jackson,  and  everything,  and  I've  borne 
it  like  a  —  like  a  lady.  But  when  you  go 
to  laughing  at  my  poor  little  Dandy  that's 
dead,  and  can't  speak " 

Susy  was  about  to  say,  K  Can't  speak  for 
himself,"  but  saw  in  time  how  absurdly 
she  was  talking,  and  stopped  short. 

Percy  laughed. 

w  Where  are  you  going  with  that  cage  ?  " 

"  Going  to  put  it  away,  where  I'll  never 
see  it  again,"  sobbed  pox>r  Susy. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  said  Percy:  "I'll  take 
care  of  it  for  you." 

If  Susy's  eyes  had  not  been  blinded  by 
tears,  she  would  have  been  surprised  to  see 
the  real  pity  in  Percy's  face. 

He  was  a  rollicking  boy,  full  of  merri- 
ment and  bluster,  and  what  tender  feelings 
he  possessed,  he  took  such  a  wonderful 
amount  of  pains  to  conceal,  that  Susy  never 


LITTLE    TROUBLES.  113 

suspected  he  had  any.  She  would  have  en- 
joyed her  ride  if  she  had  not  felt  so  full 
of  grief.  The  day  was  beautiful.  There 
had  been  a  storm,  and  the  trees  looked  as 
if  they  had  been  snowballing  one  another  \ 
but  Susy  had  no  eye  for  trees,  and  just  theiv 
hardly  cared  for  her  pony. 

Percy  put  the  cage  in  the  sleigh,  undei 
the  buffalo  robes ;  and  when  they  reached 
his  own  door,  he  carried  the  cage  into  the 
house,  while  Susy  drew  a  sigh  of  relief. 
He  offered  to  stuff  Dandy,  or  have  him 
stuffed ;  but  Susy  rejected  the  idea  with 
horror. 

"  No,  if  Dandy  was  dead,  he  was  ah 
dead ;  she  didn't  want  to  see  him  sitting 
up  stiff  and  cold,  when  he  couldn't  sing  a 
Bpeck." 


314  SISTER    SUSY. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

AXXIE    LOVEJOY. 

BUT  thu  day  was  not  over  yet.  The 
bright  sun  and-  blue  sky  were  doing  what 
they  could  to  make  a  cheerful  time  of  it, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  Susy  fell  more  deeply 
into  trouble,  as  the  hours  passed  on. 

There  are  such  days  in  everybody's  life, 
when  it  rains  small  vexations  from  morning 
till  night,  and  when  all  we  can  do  is  to  hope 
for  better  things  to-morrow. 

It  was  Wednesday ;  and  in  the  afternoon, 
Flossy  Eastman  came  over  with  a  new  game, 
and  while  the  little  girls,  Flossy,  Susy,  and 
Prudy  were  playing  it,  and  trying  their  best 


A^NIE   LOVE  JOY.  115 

to  keep  Dotty  Dimple's  prying  fingers  and 
long  curls  out  of  the  way,  in  came  Miss 
Annie  Lovejoy. 

This  was  a  little  neighbor,  who,  as  the 
children  sometimes  privately  declared,  was 
"always  'round."  Mrs.  Parlin  had  her  own 
private  doubts  about  the  advantages  to  be 
derived  from  her  friendship,  and  had  some- 
times gone  so  far  as  to  send  her  home,  when 
she  seemed  more  than  usually  in  the  way. 

Annie's  mother  lived  next  door,  but  all 
Mrs.  Parlin  knew  of  her,  was  what  she 
could  see  and  hear  from  her  own  windows ; 
and  that  little  was  not  very  agreeable.  She 
saw  that  Mrs.  Lovejoy  dressed  in  gaudy 
colors,  and  loaded  herself  with  jewelry ;  and 
she  could  hear  her  scold  her  servants  and 
children  with  a  loud,  shrill  voice. 

The  two  ladies  had  never  exchanged  calls  ; 
but  Annie,  it  seemed,  had  few  playmates, 


116  SISTER   SUSY. 

and  she  clung  to  Susy  with  such  a  show  of 
affection,  that  Mrs.  Parlin  could  not  forbid 
her  visits,  although  she  watched  her  closely; 
anxious,  as  a  careful  mother  should  be,  to 
make  sure  she  was  a  proper  companion  for 
her  little  daughter.  So  far  she  had  never 
known  her  to  say  or  do  anything  morally 
wrong,  though  her  manners  were  not  exactly 
those  of  a  well-bred  little  girl. 

This  afternoon,  when  the  new  game  was 
broken  up  by  the  entrance  of  Annie,  the 
children  began  the  play  of  housekeeping, 
because  Prudy  could  join  in  it.  Susy  found 
she  enjoyed  any  amusement  much  more 
when  it  pleased  the  little  invalid. 

"I  will  be  the  lady  of  the  house,"  said 
Annie,  promptly,  "because  I  have  rings  on 
my  fingers,  and  a  coral  necklace.  My  name 
is  Mrs.  Piper.  Prudy, —  no,  Rosy,  —  you 
shall  be  Mrs.  Shot  well,  come  a-visiting  me; 


ANNIE    LOVE  JOY.  117 

because  you  can't  do  anything  else.  We'll 
make  believe  you've  lost  your  husband  in 
the  wars.  I  know  a  Mrs.  Shotwell,  and 
she  is  always  taking -on ,  and  saying,  'My 
poor  dear  husband,'  under  her  handkerchief; 
just  this  way." 

The  children  laughed  at  the  nasal  twang 
which  Annie  gave  to  the  words,  and  Prudy 
imitated  it  to  perfection,  not  knowing  it  was 
wrong. 

"Well,  what  shall  I  be?"  said  Susy,  not 
very  well  pleased  that  the  first  characters 
had  been  taken  already. 

"  O,  you  shall  be  a  hired  girl,  and  wear 
a  handkerchief  on  your  head,  just  as  our 
girl  does ;  and  you  must  be  a  little  deaf, 
and  keep  saying,  *  What,  ma'am?'  when  I 
speak  to  you." 

"And  I,"  said  Florence,  "will  be  Mr, 
Peter  Piper,  the  head  of  the  family." 


118  bISTER    SUSY. 

w  Yes,"  returned  Annie,  "you  can  put  on 
a  -water-proof  cloak,  and  you  will  make  quite 
a  good-looking  husband ;  but  I  shall  be  the 
head  of  the  family  myself,  and  have  things 
about  as  I  please  !  " 

"Well,  there,"  cried  Flossy,  slipping  her 
arms  into  the  sleeves  of  her  cloak,  "I  don't 
know  about  that;  I  don't  think  it's  very 
polite  for  you  to  treat  your  husband  in  that 
way." 

Flossy  wanted  to  have  the  control  of 
family  matters  herself. 

"  But  I  believe  in  'Woman's  Rights,'  "  said 
Annie,  with  a  toss  of  the  head,  "and  if 
there's  anything  I  despise,  it'  is  a  man 
meddling  about  the  house." 

Here  little  Dotty  began  to  cause  a  dis- 
turbance, by  sticking  a  fruit-knife  into  the 
edges  of  the  "  what-not,"  and  making  a 
whirring  noise. 


ANNIE   LOVE  JOY.  119 

w  I  wouldn't  do  so,  Dotty,"  said  Susy, 
going  up  to  her ;  "  it  troubles  us ;  and,  be* 
sides,  I'm  afraid  it  will  break  the  knife." 

"  I  don't  allow  my  hired  girl  to  interfere 
with  my  children,"  said  Annie,  ^peaking  up 
in  the  character  of  Mrs.  Piper ;  "  I  am  mis- 
tress of  the  house,  I'd  have  you  to  know ! 
There,  little  daughter,  they  shan't  plague 
her;  she  shall  keep  on  doing  mischief;  so 
she  shall !  " 

Dotty  needed  no  coaxing  to  keep  on  doing 
mischief,  but  hit  the  musical  knife  harder 
than  ever,  giving  it  a  dizzy  motion,  like  the 
clapper  in  a  mill. 

Prudy  was  quite  annoyed  by  the  sound, 
but  did  not  really  know  whether  to  be  ner- 
vous or  not,  and  concluded  to  express  her 
vexation  in  groans :  the  groans  she  was 
giving  in  memory  of  the  departed  Mr.  Shot- 
well,  who  had  died  of  a  "  cannon  bullet/ 


120  SISTER    SUSY. 

"My  good  Mrs.  Shotwell/'  said  Mrs. 
Piper,  trying  to  "make  conversation,"  "I 
think  I  have  got  something  in  my  eye  :  will 
you  please  tell  me  how  it  looks ': " 

"  O,"  said  Prudy,  peeping  into  it,  r'  your 
eye  looks  very  well,  ma'am ;  don't  you 
'xcuse  it ;  it  looks  well  enough  for  me.99. 

"Ahem!"  said  Mrs.  Piper,  laughing,  and 
settling  her  head-dress,  which  was  Susy's  red 
scarf:  "are  your  feet  warm,  Mrs.  Shotwell?" 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,"  replied  Prudy,  "I 
don't  feel  'em  cold.  O,  dear,  if  your  hus- 
band was  all  deaded  up,  I  guess  you'd  cry, 
Mrs.  Piper." 

Susy  and  Flossy  looked  at "  each  other, 
and  smiled.  They  thought  Prudy  seemed 
more  like  herself  than  they  had  known  her 
for  a  long  time. 

ff  You  must  go  right  out  of  the  parlor, 
Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Piper,  flourishing  the 


ANNIE    LOVE  JOY.  121 

poker  ;  "  I  mean  you,  Susy  —  the  parloi 
isn't  any  place  for  hired  girls." 

"  Ma'am.  ?  "  said  Susy,  inclining  her  head 
to  one  side,  in  order  to  hear  better. 

"  O,  dear !  the  plague  of  having  a  deaf 
girl!"  moaned  Mrs.  Piper.  "You  don't 
know  how  trying  it  is,  Mrs.  Shotwell ! 
That  hired  girl,  Betsey,  hears  with  her  elbows, 
Mrs.  Shotwell;  I  verily  believe  she  does!" 

"  O,  no,  ma'am,"  replied  Prudy ;  "  I  guess 
she  doesn't  hear  with  her  elbows,  does  she  ? 
If  she  heard  with  her  elbows,  she  wouldn't 
have  to  ask  you  over  again  !  " 

This  queer  little  speech  set  Mr.  Piper  and 
his  wife,  and  their  servant,  all  to  laughing, 
and  Betsey  looked  at  her  elbows,  to  see  if 
they  were  in  the  right  place. 

"AVill  you  please,  ma'am,"  said  Prudy, 
*  ask  Betsey  to  hot  a  flatiron  ?  I've  cried  my 
handkerchief  all  up  !  " 


122  SISTER    SUSY. 

"  Yes ;  go  right  out,  Betsey,  and  hot  a 
flatiron,"  said  Mrs.  Piper,  very  hospitably. 
w  Go  out,  this  instant,  and  build  a  fire, 
Betsey." 

"Yes,  go  right  out,  Betsey,"  echoed  Mr. 
Piper,  who  could  find  nothing  better  to  do 
than  to  repeat  his  wife's  words ;  for,  in  spite 
of  himself,  she  did  appear  to  be  the  "head 
of  the  family." 

"  It  was  my  darlin'  husband's  handker- 
chief," sobbed  Prudy. 

"  Rather  a  small  one  for  a  man,"  said  Mr. 
Piper,  laughing. 

"Well,"  replied  Prudy,  rather  quick  for 
a  thought,  "  my  husband  had  a  very  smal] 
nose ! " 

Mrs.  Piper  tried  to  make  more  "  conver- 
sation." 

"  O,  Mrs.  Shotwell,  you  ought  to  be  ex- 
ceeding thankful  you're  a  widow,  and  don't 


ANNIE    LOVE  JOY.  123 

keep  house !  I  think  my  hired  girls  will 
carry  down  my  gray  hairs  to  the  grave ! 
The  last  one  I  had  was  Irish,  and  very 
Catholic." 

Prudy  groaned  from  sympathy,  and  wiped 
her  eyes  on  that  corner  of  her  handkerchief 
which  was  supposed  to  be  not  quite  "  cried 
up." 

"Yes,  indeed,  it  was  awful,"  continued 
Mrs.  Piper ;  "  for  she  was  always  going 
to  masses  and  mass-meetings ;  and  there 
couldn't  anybody  die  but  they  must  be 
f  waked,'  you  know." 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  they  could  be  waked 
up  when  they  was  dead,"  said  Prudy,  open- 
ing her  eyes. 

"O,  but  they  only  make  believe  you  can 
wake  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Piper;  "of  course  it 
isn't  true  !  For  my  part,  I  don't  believe  a 
word  an  Irish  girl  says,  any  way." 


124  SISTER    SUSY. 

"Hush,  my  child,"  she  continued,  turning 
to  Dotty,  who  was  now  shaqDening  the  silver 
knife  on  the  edges  of  the  iron  grate.  "Bet- 
sey, why  in  the  world  clout  you  see  to  that 
baby  ?  I  believe  you  are  losing  your  mind  !  " 

"  That  makes  me  think,"  said  Prudy,  sud- 
denly breaking  in  with  a  new  idea  ;  "  what  do 
you  s'pose  the  reason  is  folks  can't  be  waked 
up  ?  What  makes  'em  stay  in  heaven  all  the 
days,  and  nights,  and  years,  and  never  come 
down  here  to  see  anybody,  not  a  minute  ?  " 

"What  an  idea!"  said  Annie.  "Fm  sure 
I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  I've  been  a  thinkin',"  said  Prudy, 
answering  her  own  question,  "ffthat  when 
God  has  sended  'em  up  to  the  sky,  they  like 
to  stay  up  there  the  best.  It's  a  nicer  place, 
a  great  deal  nicer  place,  up  to  God's  house." 

"O,  yes,  of  course,"  replied  Annio „  "but 
our  play " 


ANNIE    LOVE  JOY.  125 

w  I've  been  a  thinking"  continued  Prudy^ 
*that  when  I  go  up  to  God's  house,  I  shan't 
wear  the  splint.  I  can  run  all  over  the 
house,  and  he'll  be  willing  I  should  go  up 
stairs,  and  down  cellar,  you  know." 

Prudy  sighed.*  Sometimes  she  •  almos' 
longed  for  "  God's  house." 

"  Well,  let's  go  on  with  our  play,"  said 
Annie,  impatiently.  "  It's  most  supper-time, 
Mrs.  Shot  well.  Come  in,  Betsey." 

"Ma'am?"  said  Betsey,  appearing  at  the 
door,  and  turning  up  one  ear,  very  much  as 
if  it  were  a  dipper,  in  which  she  expected  to 
catch  the  words  which  dropped  from  the  lips 
of  her  mistress.  "  Betsey,  have  you  attended 
to  your  sister  —  to  my  little  child,  I  mean? 
Then  go  out  and  make  some  sassafras  cakes, 
and  some  eel-pie,  and  some  squir**?l-sr»up ; 
and  set  the  table  in  five  minutes '.  rl<?  ynu 
hear  ?  " 


126  SISTER   SUSY. 

"  Ma'am  ?  "  said  the  deaf  servant ;  *  what 
did  you  say  about  gingerbread?" 

Susy  did  not  like  her  part  of  the  game ; 
but  she  played  it  as  well  as  she  could,  and 
let  Annie  manage  everything,  because  that 
was  what  pleased  Annie. 

"O,  how  stupid  Betsey  is!"  said  Mr. 
Piper,  coming  to  the  aid  of  his  wife.  "  Mrs. 
Piper  says  eel-jumbles,  and  sassafras-pie, 
and  pound-cake  ;  all  made  in  five  minutes  ! " 

Here  everybody  laughed,  and  Prudy,  sud- 
denly remembering  her  part,  sighed,  and 
said,  — 

"  O,  my  darlin'  husband  used  to  like  jum- 
ble-pie !  I've  forgot  to  cry  for  ever  so 
long !  " 

Susy  began  to  set  the  table,  and  went  into 
the  nursery  for  some  cake  "  and  cookies, 
which  were  kept  in  an  old  tin  chest,  on  pur- 
pose for  this  play  of  housekeeping,  wilich 


ANNIE    LOVE  JOY.  127 

had  now  been  carried  on  regularly  every 
Wednesday  and  Saturday  afternoon r  for 
some  time. 

Susy  opened  the  cake-chest,  and  found 
nothing  in  it  but  a  few  dry  cookies  :  the 
fruit-cake  was  all  gone.  Who  could  have 
eaten  it  ?  Xot  Flossy,  for  she  had  a  singular 
dislike  for  raisins  and  currants,  and  never  so 
much  as  tasted  fruit-cake.  Not  Prudy,  for 
the  poor  little  thing  had  grown  so  lame  by 
this  time,  that  she  was  unable  to  bear  her 
weight  on  her  feet,  much  less  to  walk  into 
the  nursery.  Dotty  could  not  be  the  thief. 
Her  baby-conscience  was  rather  tough  and 
elastic,  and  I  suppose  she  would  have  felt 
no  more  scruples  about  nibbling  nice  things, 
than  an  unprincipled  little  mouse. 

But,  then,  Dotty  couldn't  reach  the  cake- 
chest  ;  so  she  was  certainly  innocent. 

Then  Susy  remembered  in  a  moment  that 
9 


128  SISTER    SUSY. 

it  was  Annie  :  Annie  had  run  into  the  house 
morning  and  night,  and  had  often  said,  "I'm 
right  hungry.  I'm  going  to  steal  a  piece  of 
our  cake  !  " 

So  it  seemed  that  Annie  had  eaten  it  all, 
Susy  ran  back  to  Prudy's  sitting-room,  where 
her  little  guests  were  seated,  and  said,  trying 
not  to  laugh,  — 

"Please,  ma'am,  I  just  made  some  eel- 
jumbles  and  things,  and  a  dog  came  in  and 
stole  them." 

"Very  well,  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Piper, 
serenely;  "make  some  more." 

"Yes,  make  some  more,"  echoed  Mr. 
Piper ;  and  added,  "  chain  up- that  dog." 

"But  real  honest  true,"  said  Susy,  "the 
fruit-cake  is  all  gone  out  of  the  chest. 
You  ate  it  up,  you  know,  Annie ;  but  it's 
no  matter :  we'll  cut  up  some  cookies,  or, 
may  be,  mother'll  let  us  have  some  oyster- 
erackers." 


ANNIE    LOVEJOY.  121) 

*  /  ate  up  the  cake  !  "  cried  Annie  ;  "  it's 
no  such  a  thing ;  I  never  touched  it !  "  Her 
face  flushed  as  she  spoke. 

"  O,  but  you  did,"  persisted  Susy  ;  "I  sup- 
pose you've  forgotten !  You  went  to  the 
cake-chest  this  morning,  and  last  night,  and 
yesterday  noon,  and  ever  so  many  more 
times." 

Annie  was  too  ang^  to  speak. 

"But  it's  just  as  well,"  added  Susy,  po- 
litely ;  "  you  could  have  it  as  well  as  not, 
and  perfectly  welcome  !  " 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  cried 
Annie,  indignantly;  for  she  thought  she 
saw  a  look  of  surprise  and  contempt  on 
Flossy's  face,  and  fancied  that  Flossy  de- 
spised her  because  she  had  a  weakness  foi 
fruit-cake. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  take  me  for  a  pig,  Susy 
Parlin !  I  heard  what  your  mother  said 


130  SISTER    SUSY. 

about  that  cake  !  She  said  it  was  too  dry 
for  her  company,  but  it  was  too  rich  foi 
little  girls,  and  we  must  only  eat  a  teeny 
speck  at  a  time.  I  told  my  mamma,  and 
Bhe  laughed,  to  think  such  mean  dried-up 
cake  was  too  rich  for  little  girls  ! " 

Susy  felt  her  temper  rising,  but  her  desire 
to  be  polite  did  not  desert  her. 

"It  was  rich,  nice  cake,  Annie;  but 
mother  said  the  slices  had  been  cut  a  great 
while,  and  it  was  drying  up.  Let's  not  talk 
any  more  about  it." 

"  O,  but  I  shall  talk  more  about  it,"  cried 
Annie,  still  more  irritated;  "you  keep  hinix 
ing  that  I  tell  wrong  stories  and  'steal  cake ; 
yes,  you  do  !  and  then  you  ain't  willing  to 
let  me  speak  !  " 

All  this  sounded  like  righteous  indig- 
nation, but  was  only  anger.  Annie  was 
entirely  in  the  wrong,  and  knew  it ;  therefore 
e$ue  lost  her  temper. 


ANNIE   LOVE  JOY.  131 

Susy  had  an  unusual  amount  of  self-con- 
trol at  this  time,  merely  because  she  had  the 
truth  on  her  side.  But  her  dignified  com- 
posure only  vexed  Annie  the  more. 

"I  won't  stay  here  to  be  imposed  upon, 
and  told  that  I'm  a  liar  and  a  thief;  so  I 
won't !  I'll  go  right  home  this  very  minute, 
and  tell  my  mother  just  how  you  treat  your 
company ! " 

And,  in  spite  of  all  Susy  could  say,  Annie 
threw  on  her  hood  and  cloak,  and  flounced 
out  of  the  room ;  forgetting,  in  her  wrath, 
to  take  off  Susy's  red  scarf,  which  was  still 
festooned  about  her  head. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  she's  gone,"  said  Flossy, 
coolly,  as  the  door  closed  with  a  slam. 
w  She's  a  bold  thing,  and  my  mother  wouldn't 
tike  me  to  play  with  her,  if  she  knew  how 
she  acts  !  She  said  '  victuals  '  for  food,  and 
that  isn't  elegant,  mother  says.  What  righ/ 


132  SISTER   SUSY. 

had  she  to  set  up  and  say  she'd  be  Mrs. 
Piper  ?  So  forward  !  " 

After  all,  this  was  the  grievous  part  of 
the  whole  to  Flossy,  —  that  she  had  to  take 
an  inferior  part  in  the  play. 

"But  I'm  sorry  she's  gone,"  said  Susy,  un- 
easily. "  I  don't  like  to  have  her  go  and  tell 
that  I  wasn't  polite." 

"  You  was  polite,"  chimed  in  little  Prudy, 
from  the  sofa ;  "  a  great  deal  politer'n  she 
was !  I  wouldn't  care,  if  I  would  be  you, 
Susy.  I  don't  wish  Annie  was  dead,  but  I 
wish  she  was  a  duck  a-sailin'  on  the  water  ! " 

The  children  went  back  to  the  game  they 
had  been  playing  before  Annie  came ;  but 
the  interest  was  quite  gone.  Their  quick- 
tempered little  guest  had  been  a  "  kill-joy  " 
in  spite  of  her  name. 

But  the  afternoon  was  not  over  yet. 
What  happened  next,  I  will  tell  you  in 
another  chapter. 


MORAL    COURAGE.  133 


CHAPTER    IX. 

MORAL  COURAGE. 

ANNIE  LOVEJOY  had  not  been  gone  fifteen 
minutes,  when  there  was  a  sharp  ringing  of 
Mrs.  Parlin's  door-bell,  and  a  little  boy 
gave  Norah  the  red  scarf  of  Susy's,  and  a 
note  for  Mrs.  Parlin. 

Norah  suspected  they  both  came  from 
Mrs.  Lovejoy,  and  she  could  see  that  lady 
from  the  opposite  window,  looking  toward 
the  house  with  a  very  defiant  expression. 

Mrs.  Parlin  opened  the  note  with  some 
surprise,  for  she  had  been  engaged  with 
visitors  in  the  parlor,  and  did  not  know  what 
had  been  going  on  up  stairs. 


134  SISTER    SUSY, 

Whatever  Mrs.  Lovejby's  other  accom- 
plishments might  be,  she  could  not  write 
very  elegantly.  The  ink  was  hardly  dry, 
and  the  words  were  badly  blotted,  as  well 
as  incorrectly  spelled. 

"MRS.  PAKLIN. 

"  Madam :  If  my  own  daughter  is  a  theij 
and  a  Her,  I  beg  to  be  informed.  She  has 
no  knowlidg  of  the  cake,  whitch  was  so  dryed 
up,  a  begar  woold  not  touch  it.  Will  Miss 
Susan  Parlin  come  over  here,  and  take  back 
her  words  ? 

w  SERENA  LOVE  JOY." 

Mrs.  Parlin  was  at  a  loss  to  understand 
this,  for  she  had  quite  forgotten  the  fact, 
that  the  children  had  any  cake  to  use  at 
their  play  of  housekeeping.  She  supposed 
that  Susy  must  have  accused  Annie  of 
prying  into  the  china-closet,  where  the 


MORAL    COURAGE.  135 

cakes  and  jellies  were  kept.  She  sent  for 
Susy  at  once. 

"  My  daughter,"  said  she,  in  her  usual 
quiet  tones,  tf  did  you  ever  haye  any  reason 
to  suppose  that  Annie  Lovejoy  went  about 
meddling  with  our  things,  and  peeping  into 
the  closets?" 

"Why,  no,  mother,"  replied  Susy,  much 
surprised ;  "  she  never  saw  the  closets,  that 
I  know  of.  Why,  mother,  what  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  Never  ate  cake,  did  she,  without  leave?" 

w  O,  now  I  know  what  you  mean,  mother ! 
Yes'm,  she  ate  some  of  that  fruit-cake  you 
gave  us  to  play  with ;  and  when  I  told  her 
of  it,  she  got  angry,  and  said  she  was  going 
right  home,  and  would  tell  her  mother  how  I 
treated  my  company ;  but  I  don't  see  how 
you  found  that  out !  " 

"  Never  mind  yet  how  I  found  it  out,  my 


136  SISTER   SUSY. 

dear.  I  want  to  know  if  you  are  sure  that 
Annie  ate  the  cake?" 

"Yes,  mother  :  just  as  certain  sure  as  I  can 
be  !  You  know  Dotty  can't  reach  that  high 
shelf  in  the  nursery-closet,  and  I  can't,  with- 
out getting  into  a  chair;  and  Prudy  can't 
walk  a  step ;  and  Flossy  despises  cake." 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  Parlin,  smiling,  "I  don't 
see  that  you  have  proved  Annie  to  be  the 
guilty  one." 

"Guilty?  O,  I  don't  know  as  she  is 
guilty,  mamma  ;  but  she  ate  the  cake  !  She 
ate  it  right  before  my  face  and  eyes ;  but  I 
told  her  it  was  just  as  well,  she  was  per- 
fectly welcome,  and  tried  to  be  as  polite 
as  if  she  was  a  grown-up  lady,  mother. 
But,  O,  dear,  it  didn't  make  a  speck  of  dif- 
ference how  much  I  said  ;  for  the  more  I 
said,  the  more  angry  she  grew,  and  I 
couldn't  make  her  believe  I  didn't  think 


MORAL    COURAGE.  137 

she  was  a  thief  and  a  liar !  Only  think,  a 
thief  and  a  liar !  But  I  never  said  those 
words  at  all,  mother ! 

"  Very  well,  my  dear  ;  I  am  sure  you  did 
not.  It  is  a  great  comfort  to  me,  Susy,  that 
I  can  always  rely  on  your  word.  You  have 
done  nothing  wrong,  and  need  not  be  un- 
happy ;  but  Mrs.  Lovejoy  sends  for  you  to 
go  over  and  tell  her  just  what  you  mean 
about  the  cake ;  are  you  willing  to  go  ? " 

Susy  was  not  willing;  indeed,  she  was 
very  much  frightened,  and  begged  her 
mother  to  excuse  her  in  some  way  to  Mrs. 
Lovejoy,  or,  if  that  would  not  do,  to  go 
herself  and  explain  the  matter  for  her. 

But,  as  it  was  Susy's  own  affair,  Mrs. 
Parlin  wished  to  have  as  little  to  do  with 
it  as  possible.  Besides,  she  considered  it 
a  good  opportunity  to  teach  Susy  a  lesson 
in  moral  courage. 

Susy  started  very  reluctantly. 


138  SISTER    SUSY. 

"I'm  afraid  Mrs.  Lovejoy  will  scold  real 
sharp,"  said  she.  "What  shall  I  do?  O, 
mother,  I  didn't  see  Annie  eat  all  the  cake ; 
I  didn't  watch.  How  do  I  know  but  she 
gave  some  crumbs  to  the  cat?  Can't  I — • 
can't  I  say,  I  guess  the  cat  ate  it?" 

"  Susy  !  "  said  Mrs.  Parlin,  sternly,  "  are 
you  more  afraid  of  displeasing  Mrs.  'Love- 
joy  than  you  are  of  displeasing  God?  All 
that  is  required  of  you  is  the  simple  truth. 
Merely  say  to  Annie's  mother  just  what 
you  have  said  to  me ;  that  you  saw  Annie 
eating  cake  several  times,  though  there  was 
no  harm  in  it,  and  you  did  not  call  her 
either  a  thief  or  a  liar.  Speak  respectfully, 
but  decidedly ;  and  when  you  have  said  all 
that  is  necessary,  leave  her  politely,  and 
come  home." 

Susy  called  up  all  her  courage  when  she 
entered  Mrs.  Lovejoy's  house,  and  saw  that 


MORAL    COURAGE.  139 

lady  sitting  very  erect  on  a  sofa,  with  a 
bleak  face,  which  looked  somehow  as  if  a 
north-east  wind  had  blown  over  it,  and 
frozen  it. 

"Well,  little  girl,"  said  she,  without 
waiting  for  ceremony,  "so  you  call  my 
Annie  all  the  bad  names  you  can  think  of, 
it  seems.  Is  that  the  way  you  are  brought 
up  ?  " 

"I  didn't  call  her  names,  ma'am;  she 
ate  the  cake,  but  I  was  willing,"  replied 
Susy,  calmly  and  respectfully,  though  she 
trembled  from  head  to  foot.  There  was  one 
thought  which  sustained  Susy;  she  was 
telling  the  truth,  and  that  was  just  what 
God  wanted  her  to  do. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Lovejoy,  "I  must  say 
you're  a  dignified  little  piece !  Do  you 
know  you've  done  the  same  thing  as  to 
tell  me  I  lie?" 


140  SISTER    SUSY. 

This  was  just  the  way  Annie  had  spoken ; 
warping  innocent  words,  and  making  them 
the  occasion  of  a  quarrel. 

Susy  could  think  of  nothing  which  seemed 
exactly  right  to  say  to  Mrs.  Lovejoy  in 
reply ;  so  she  wisely  held  her  peace. 

"  Yes,  miss,  you've  insulted  my  child, 
and,  as  if  that  were  not  enough,  you  come 
over  here,  deliberately,  and  insult  me,  in 
my  own  house  !  " 

Tears  sprang  to  Susy's  eyes,  but  she 
resolutely  crushed  them  back.  There  was, 
in  her  childish  mind,  a  certain  sense  of 
self-respect,  which  made  her  unwilling  to 
cry  in  the  presence  of  such,  a  person  as 
Mrs.  Lovejoy.  She  felt  instinctively  that 
the  woman  was  not  a  lady.  Susy  was  too 
young  to  reason  about  the  matter ;  but  she 
was  quite  sure  her  own  mother  was  a  model 
of  good  manners ;  and  never,  never  had  she 


MORAL    COURAGE.  141 

known  her  mother  to  raise  her  voice  to  such 
a  high  key,  or  speak  such  angry  words  ! 

Mrs.  Lovejoy  said  a  great  many  things 
which  were  both  severe  and  unjust;  but 
Susy  managed  to  keep  up  a  respectful  man- 
ner, as  her  mother  had  directed.  Mrs. 
Lovejoy  was  disappointed.  She  had  ex- 
pected Susy  would  quail  before  her  pres- 
ence, and  make  the  most  humble  confes- 
sions. 

"  I  always  knew,"  cried  Mrs.  Lovejoy,  be- 
coming more  and  more  exasperated,  —  "I 
always  knew  Mrs.  Parlin  held  her  head 
pretty  high !  She  is  a  proud,  stuck-up 
woman,  your  mother  is  ;  she  has  taught  you 
to  look  down  on  my  little  girl !  O,  yes, 
I  understand  the  whole  story !  You're  a 
beautiful  family  for  neighbors !  " 

Poor  Susy  was  fairly  bewildered. 

"Now  you  may  go  home  as  straight  as 


142  SISTER    SUSY. 

you  can  go !  But  remember  one  thing : 
never,  while  we  live  in  this  city,  shall  my 
daughter  Annie  darken  your  doors  again  !  " 

Susy  walked  home  with  downcast  head 
and  overflowing  eyes.  Her  heart  was  very 
heavy,  for  she  felt  that  she  had  been  dis- 
graced for  life,  and  could  never  be  respected 
any  more.  Here  was  a  trial  so  terrible 
that  it  caused  the  death  of  little  Dandy  to 
seem  almost  a  trifle  by  comparison. 

It  was  strange,  Susy  thought,  how  people 
could  live  through  such  severe  troubles  as 
had  fallen  to  her  lot  to-day.  She  was  •  a 
little  girl  of  quick  and  sensitive  feelings,  and 
a  sharp  word  always  wounded  her 'more  than 
a  blow.  How  that  angry  woman  had  talked 
about  her  mother ! 

Susy  decided,  upon  the  whole,  that  this 
Was  the  sting  —  this  was  the  "  pin  in  the 
lash,"  which  had  hurt  her  more  than  the 


MRS.   LOVE.TOY   AND   SUSY.— -Page  139. 


MORAL    COURAGE.  143 

lash.  How  dared  Mrs.  Lovejoy  say  a  word 
about  her  own  mother,  who  was  certainly 
the  best  woman  that  ever  lived,  always 
excepting  the  good  people  in  the  Bible  ! 

By  the  time  she  entered  the  house,  her 
indignation  had  risen  like  a  blaze,  and 
burned  away  all  her  tears.  But  should  she 
tell  her  mother  what  Mrs.  Lovejoy  had  said 
about  her  own  self,  about  her  being  "  stuck 
up,"  and  holding  her  head  pretty  high? 
Susy  could  not  decide  whether  she  ought 
to  tell  her,  and  risk  the  danger  of  almost 
breaking  her  heart !  But  before  she  had 
time  to  decide,  she  had  poured  out  the 
whole  story  in  a  torrent. 

Strange  to  say,  Mrs.  Parlin  listened  with 
perfect  calmness,  and  even  said,  when  Susy 
had  finished,  — 

"Very  well,  my  dear;  now  you  may  go 
and  hang  up  your  hood  and  cloak." 


144  SISTER   SUSY. 

"But,  mother,"  said  Susy,  rushing  up 
stairs  again,  quite  out  of  breath,  "  now 
I've  taken  care  of  my  things ;  but  did  you 
understand  what  I  said,  mother?  Annie 
will  never  come  into  this  house,  never 
again  !  Her  mother  forbids  it !  " 

"  That  is  quite  fortunate  for  me,  Susy, 
as  it  saves  me  the  trouble  of  forbidding  it 
myself ! " 

"Why,  mother,  you  wouldn't  do  such  a 
thing  as  that !  Why,  mother,  I  never  heard 
of  your  doing  such  a  thing  in  my  life  !  " 

"  I  should  regret  the  necessity  veiy  much, 
my  child ;  but  wouldn't  it  be  better,  on  the 
whole,  to  have  a  little  moral  courage,  and 
put  an  end  to  all  intercourse  between  the 
two  families,  than  to  live  in  a  constant 
broil?" 

"  Why,  yes,  mother,  I  suppose  so." 

Susy   was   beginning  to   feel   more  com- 


MORAL   COURAGE.  145 

posed.  She  saw  that  her  mother  understood 
the  whole  stoiy,  yet  her  heart  was  far  from 
being  broken ! 

"  What  is  moral  courage,  mother  ?  " 

"  The  courage  to  do  right." 

"Did  I  have  moral  courage  when  I  told 
Mrs.  Lovejoy  the  truth?" 

w  Yes,  dear.  It  was  hard  for  you,  wasn't 
it?  If  it  had  been  easy,  there  would  have 
been  no  moral  courage  about  it." 

"  I  am  glad  I  had  moral  courage  ! "  said 
Susy,  with  animation.  "  I  knew  I  did  some- 
thing right,  but  I  didn't  know  what  you 
called  it." 

"Now,"  continued  Mrs.  Parlin,  "I  have 
this  very  day  been  talking  with  a  lady,  who 
once  lived  next  door  to  Mrs.  Lovejoy;  and 
she  tells  me  enough  about  her  to  convince 
me  that  she  is  not  a  person  I  wish  for 
a  neighbor.  And  I  have  heard  enough 


146  SISTER   SUSY. 

about  Annie,  too,  to  feel  very  sure  she  is 
not  a  safe  companion  for  my  little  daughter." 

"But,  mother,"  said  Susy,  "you  are  not 
—  you  don't  feel  '  stuck-up '  above  Mrs. 
LovejOy  ?  " 

Mrs.  Parlin  smiled. 

"  That  is  not  a  very  proper  expression, 
Susy  ;  but  I  think^I  do  not  feel  stuck-up  above 
her  in  the  least.  I  am  only  anxious  that 
my  little  daughter  may  not  be  injured  by 
bad  examples.  I  don't  know  what  sort 
of  a  little  girl  Annie  might  be  with  proper 
influences,  but " 

"  Now,  mamma,  I  don't  want  to  say  any- 
thing improper,"  said  Susy,  earnestly  ;  "  but 
wouldn't  it  be  the  piousest  for  me  to  play 
with  Annie,  and  try  to  make  her  go  to 
Sabbath  school,  and  be  better  ?  " 

Mrs.  Parlin  did  not  answer  at  once. 
She  was  thinking  of  what  she  had  said  to 


MORAL   COURAGE.  147 

Susy  about  people  who  are  "  home-mission- 
aries," and  do  a  great  deal  of  good  by  a 
beautiful  example. 

"If  you  were  older,  dear,  it  would  be 
quite  different.  But,  instead  of  improving 
Annie,  who  is  a  self-willed  child,  I  fear 
you  would  only  grow  worse  yourself.  She 
is  bold,  and  you  are  rather  timid.  She 
wants  to  lead,  and  not  to  follow.  I  fear 
she  will  set  you  bad  examples." 

"  1  didn't  know,  mamma ;  but  I  thought 
I  was  almost  old  enough  to  set  my  own 
examples  !  I'm  the  oldest  of  the  family." 

Susy  said  no  more  about  becoming  a 
home-missionary  to  Annie ;  for,  although 
she  could  not  quite  see  the  force  of  her 
mother's  reasoning,  she  believed  her  mother 
was  always  right. 

"But  what  does  she  mean  by  calling  me 
timid  V  She  has  blamed  me  a  great  deal 
for  being  bold" 


148  SISTER   SUSY. 

Yes,  bold  Susy  certainly  was,  when  there 
was  a  fence  to  climb,  a  pony  to  ride,  or  a 
storm  to  be  faced;  but  she  was,  neverthe- 
less, a  little  faint-hearted  when  people 
laughed  at  her.  But  Susy  was  learning 
every  day,  and  this  time  it  had  been  a 
lesson  in  moral  courage.  She  did  not  fully 
understand  her  mother,  however,  as  you  will 
see  by  <md  by. 


EUTHIE   TURNER,  J.49 


CHAPTER    X. 

RUTHIE    TURNER. 

"  The  darkest  day, 
Wait  till  to-morrow,  will  have  passed   way." 

THE  next  morning,  Susy  awoke  with  a 
faint  recollection  that  something  unpleasant 
had  occurred,  though  she  could  not  at  first 
remember  what  it  was. 

"But  I  didn't  do  anything  wrong,"  was 
her  second  thought.  "  Now,  after  I  say  my 
prayers,  the  next  thing  I'll  feed  —  O,  Dandy 
is  dead!" 

"See  here,  Susy,  said  Percy,  coming  into 
the  dining-room,  just  after  breakfast;  "did 
you  ever  see  this  cage  before  ? " 


1/)0  SISTER    SUSY. 

"  Now,  Percy  !  When  you  know  I  want 
it  out  of  my  sight ! " 

Then,  in  the  next  breath,  "Why,  Percy 
Eastman,  if  here  isn't  your  beautiful  mock- 
ing-bird in  the  cage  !  " 

"Yes,  Susy;  and  if  you'll  keep  him,  and 
be  good  to  him,  you'll  do  me  a  great  favor." 

It  was  a  long  while  before  Susy  could  be 
persuaded  that  this  rare  bird  was  to  be  her 
"  ownest  own."  It  was  a  wonderfully  gifted 
little  creature.  Susy  could  but  own  that  he 
was  just  as  good  as  a  canary,  only  a  great 
deal  better.  "The  greater  included  the 
less."  He  had  as  sweet  a  voice,  and  a  vast 
deal  more  compass,  His  powers*  of  mimicry 
were  very  amusing  to  poor  little  Prudy, 
who  was  never  tired  of  hearing  him  mew 
like  a  kitten,  quack  like  a  duck,  or  whistle 
like  a  school-boy. 

Susy  was  still  more  delighted  than  Prudy. 


RUTHIE   TURNER.  151 

It  was  so  comforting,  too,  to  know  that  she 
was  doing  Percy  "  a  great  favor,"  by  accept- 
ing his  beautiful  present.  She  wondered  in 
her  own  mind  how  he  could  be  tired  of  such 
an  interesting  pet,  and  ask  her  to  take  it, 
just  to  get  rid  of  it ! 

About  this  time,  Mr.  Parlin  bought  for 
Prudy  a  little  armed-chair,  which  rolled 
about  the  floor  on  wheels.  This  Prudy  her- 
self could  propel  with  only  the  outlay  of 
a  very  little  strength ;  but  there  were  days 
when  she  did  not  care  to  sit  in  it  at  all. 
Prudy  seemed  to  grow  worse.  The  doctor 
was  hopeful,  very  hopeful ;  but  Mrs.  Parlin 
was  not. 

Prudy's  dimpled  hands  had  grown  so  thin, 
that  you  could  trace  the  winding  path  of 
every  blue  vein  quite  distinctly.  Her  eyes 
were  large  and  mournful,  and  seemed  to  be 
always  asking  for  pity.  She  grew  quiet 


152  SISTER    SUSY. 

and  patient  —  "  painfully  patient,"  her  fathei 
said.  Indeed,  Mr.  Parlin,  as  well  as  his 
wife,  feared  the  little  sufferer  was  ripening 
for  heaven. 

"Mamma,"  said  she,  one  day,  "mamma, 
you  never  snip  my  fingers  any  nowadays 
do  you?  When  I'm  just  as  naughty,  you 
never  snip  my  fingers  !  " 

Mrs.  Parlin  turned  her  face  away.  There 
were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  she  did  not  like 
to  look  at  those  little  white  fingers,  which 
she  was  almost  afraid  would  never  have  the 
natural,  childish  naughtiness  in  them  any 
more. 

"  I  think  sick  and  patient  little  girls  don't 
need  punishing,"  said  she,  after  a  while. 
fc  Do  you  remember  how  you  used  to  think 
I  snipped  your  hands  to  f  get  the  naughty 
out?'  You  thought  the  naughty  was  all  in 
your  little  hands  ! " 


RUTHIE    TURNER.  153 

"But  it  wasn't,  mamma,"  said  Prudy, 
slowly  and  solemnly.  "I  know  where  it 
was :  it  was  in  my  heart" 

w  Who  can  take  the  naughty  out  of  our 
hearts,  dear?  Do  you  ever  think?" 

"Our  Father  in  heaven.  No  one  else 
can.  He  knows  how  to  snip  our  hearts, 
and  get  the  naughty  out.  Sometimes  he 
sends  the  earache  and  the  toothache  to 
Susy,  and  the  —  the  —  lameness  to  me. 
O,  he  has  a  great  many  ways  of  snipping  ! " 

Prudy  was  showing  the  angel-side  of  her 
nature  now.  Suffering  was  "making  her 
perfect."  She  had  a  firm  belief  that  God 
knew  all  about  it,  and  that  somehow  or 
other  it  was  "all  right."  Her  mother  took 
a  great  deal  of  pains  to  teach  her  this.  She 
knew  that  no  one  can  bear  affliction  witli 
real  cheerfulness  who  does  not  trust  in  God. 

But  there  was  now  and  then  a  bright  day 


154  SISTER   SUSY. 

when  Prudy  felt  quite  buoyant,  and  wanted 
to  play.  Susy  left  everything  then,  and 
tried  to  amuse  her.  If  this  lameness  was 
refining  little  Prudy,  it  was  also  making 
Susy  more  patient.  She  could  not  look  at 
her  little  sister's  pale  face,  and  not  be 
touched  with  pity. 

One  afternoon,  Flossy  Eastman  and  Ru- 
thie  Turner  came  to  see  Susy ;  and,  as  it  was 
one  of  Prudy 's  best  days,  Mrs.  Parlin  said 
they  might  play  in  Prudy 's  sitting-room. 
Ruthie  wras  what  Susy  called  an  "  old-fash- 
ioned little  girl."  She  lived  with  a  widowed 
mother,  and  had  no  brothers  and  sisters, 
so  that  she  appeared  much  older  than  she 
really  was.  She  liked  to  talk  with  grown 
people  upon  wise  subjects,  as  if  she  were 
at  least  twenty-five  years  old.  Susy  knew 
that  this  was  not  good  manners,  and  she 
longed  to  say  so  to  Ruthie. 


RUTHIE   TURNER.  155 

Aunt  Madge  was  in  Prudy's  sitting-room 
when  Ruthie  entered.  Ruthie  went  up  to 
her  and  shook  hands  at  once. 

"I  suppose  it  is  Susy's  aunt  Madge,"  said 
she.  "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  for  Susy 
says  you  love  little  girls,  and  know  lots 
of  games." 

There  was  such  a  quiet  composure  in 
Ruth's  manner,  and  she  seemed  to  feel  so 
perfectly  at  home  in  addressing  a  young 
lady  she  had  never  seen  before,  that  Miss 
Parlin  was  quite  astonished,  as  well  as  a 
little  inclined  to  smile. 

Then  Ruthie  went  on  to  talk  about  the 
war.  Susy  listened  in  mute  despair,  for 
she  did  not  know  anything  about  politics » 
Aunt  Madge  looked  at  Susy's  face,  and  felt 
amused,  for  Ruthie  knew  nothing  about 
politics  either  :  she  was  as  ignorant  as  Susy. 
She  had  only  heard  her  mother  and  other 


156  SISTER   SUSY. 

ladies  talking  together.  Ruthie  answered 
all  the  purpose  of  a  parrot  hung  up  in  a 
cage,  for  she  caught  and  echoed  everything 
that  was  said,  not  having  much  idea  what 
it  meant. 

When  aunt  Madge  heard  Ruth  laboring 
away  at  long  sentences,  with  hard  words 
in  them,  she  thought  of  little  Dotty,  as  she 
had  seen  her,  that  morning,  trying  to  tug 
Percy's  huge  dog  up  stairs  in  her  arms. 

"It  is  too  much  for  her,"  thought  aunt 
Madge :  "  the  dog  got  the  upperhand  of 
Dotty,  and  I  think  the  big  words  are  more 
than  a  match  for  Ruth." 

But  Ruth  did  not  seem  to  'know  it,  for 
she  persevered.  She  gravely  asked  aunt 
Madge  if  she  approved  of  the  "Mancimctiion 
of  Prodapation."  Then  she  said  she  and  her 
mamma  were  very  much  "perplexed "  when 
news  came  of  the  last  defeat.  She  would 


RUTHIE    TUKNEE.  157 

have  said  w surprised"  only  surprised  waa 
an  e very-day  word,  and  not  up  to  her  stand- 
ard of  elegant  English. 

Ruth  was  not  so  very  silly,  after  all.  It 
was  only  when  she  tried  to  talk  of  matters 
too  old  for  her  that  she  made  herself  ridicu- 
lous. She  was  very  quiet  and  industrious, 
and  had  knit  several  pairs  of  socks  for  the 
soldiers. 

As  soon  as  Miss  Parlin  could  disentangle 
herself  from  her  conversation  with  Ruthie, 
she  left  the  children  to  themselves. 

"Let's  keep  school,"  said  Prudy.  "  111  be 
teacher,  if  you  want  me  to." 

«  Very  well,"  replied  Susy,  "  we'll  let  her ; 
won't  we,  girls?  she  is  such  a  darling." 

"Well,"  said  Prudy,  with  a  look  of  im- 
mense satisfaction,  "please  go,  Susy,  and 
ask  grandma  if  I  may  have  one  of  those 
shiny,  white  handkerchiefs  she  wears  on  hel 
neck-  and  a  cap,  and  play  Quaker." 


158  SISTER    SUSY. 

Grandma  was  very  glad  that  Prudy  felt 
well  enough  to  play  Quaker,  and  lent  her 
as  much  "  costume  "  as  she  needed,  as  well 
as  a  pair  of  spectacles  without  eyes,  which 
the  children  often  borrowed  for  their  plays, 
fancying  that  they  added  to  the  dignity  of 
the  wearer. 

When  Prudy  was  fairly  equipped,  she  was 
a  droll  little  Quakeress,  surely,  and  grandma 
had  to  be  called  up  from  the  kitchen  to  be- 
hold her  with  her  own  eyes.  The  little  soft 
face,  almost  lost  in  the  folds  of  the  expan- 
sive cap,  was  every  bit  as  solemn  as  if  she 
had  been,  as  aunt  Madge  said,  "  a  hundred 
years  old,  and  very  old  for  her  age." 

She  was  really  a  sweet  little  likeness  of 
grandma  Read  in  miniature. 

"And  their  names  are  alike,  too,"  said 
Susy :  ''grandma's  name  is  Prudence,  and  so 
is  Prudy 's." 


RUTHIE    TURNER.  159 

"Used  to  be,"  said  Prudy,  gravely. 

"  Rosy  Frances  "  was  now  lifted  most  care- 
fully  into  her  little  wheeled  chair,  and  no 
queen  ever  held  a  court  with  more  dignity 
than  she  assumed  as  she  smoothed  into  place 
the  folds  of  her  grandma's  snowy  kerchief, 
which  she  wore  about  her  neck. 

"What  shall  we  do  first?"  said  Flossy 
and  Susy. 

"  Thee  ?  thee  ?  "  Prudy  considered  "  thee  " 
the  most  important  word  of  all.  "  Why, 
thee  may  behave  ;  I  mean,  behave  thyselves" 

The  new  teacher  had  not  collected  her 
ideas  yet. 

"  Let's  get  our  books  together,"  said  Susy, 
"  and  then  we'll  all  sit  on  the  sofa  and 
study." 

"Me,  me,"  chimed  in  Dotty  Dimple,  drop- 
ping the  little  carriage  in  which  she  was 
wheeling  her  kitty;  "me,  too!" 


160  SISTSR    SUSY. 

"Well,  if  you  must,  you  must;  snuggle 
in  here  between  Flossy  and  me,"  said  Susy, 
who  was  determined  that  to-day  everything 
should  go  on  pleasantly. 

w  Sixteenth  class  in  joggerphy,"  said  Miss 
Rosy  Frances,  peeping  severely  over  her 
spectacles.  "  Be  spry  quick  ! " 

The  three  pupils  stood  up  in  a  row,  hold- 
ing their  books  close  to  their  faces. 

"  Thee  may  hold  out  your  hands  now, 
and  I  shall  ferule  thee  —  the  whole  school," 
was  the  stern  remark  of  the  young  teacher, 
as  she  took  off  her  spectacles  to  wipe  the 
holes. 

w  Why,  we  haven't  been  doing  anything," 
said  Ruthie,  affecting  to  cry. 

"No,  I  know  it ;  but  thee'd  ought  to  have 
been  doing  something ;  thee'd  ought  to  have 
studied  thy  lessons." 

"But,    teacher,    we    didn't    have    time," 


RUTHIE    TUENEB.  161 

pleaded  Flossy ;  "  you  called  us  out  so 
quick  !  Won't  you  forgive  us  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  said  Eosy  Frances,  gently; 
"  I  will,  if  thee'll  all  speak  up  'xtremely  loud, 
and  fix  thine  eyes  on  thy  teacher." 

The  pupils  replied,  "Yes,  ma'am,"  at  the 
top  of  their  voices. 

"  Now,"  said  Kosy  Frances,  appearing  to 
read  from  the  book,  "  where  is  the  Isthmus 
of  Susy  9  n 

The  scholars  all  laughed,  and  answered 
at  random.  They  did  not  know  that  their 
teacher  was  trying  to  say  the  "Isthmus 
of  Suez." 

The  next  question  took  them  by  surprise  : — • 

w  Is  there  any  man  in  the  moon  ?  " 

w  What  a  queer  idea,  Rosy,"  said  Susy ; 
*  what  made  you  ask  that  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I  wanted  to  know,"  replied  the 
Quaker  damsel.  "  They  said  he  came  down 


162  SISTER   SUSY. 

when  the  other  man  was  eatin'  porridge.  1 
should  think,  if  he  went  back  up  there,  and 
didn't  have  any  wife  and  children,  he'd  be 
real  lonesome  ! " 

This  idea  of  Prudy's  set  the  whole  school 
to  romancing,  although  it  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  recitation.  Flossy  said  if  there  was 
a  man  in  the  moon,  he  must  be  a  giant,  or 
he  never  could  get  round  over  the  moun- 
tains, which  she  had  heard  were  very  steep. 

Euthie  asked  if  there  was  anything  said 
about  his  wife  !  Susy,  who  had  read  con- 
siderable poetry,  was  sure  she  had  heard 
something  of  a  woman  up  there,  named 
fr  Cynthia ; "  but  she  supposed-  it  was  all 
*  moonshine,"  or  "made  up,"  as  she  ex- 
pressed it.  She  said  she  meant  to  ask  her 
aunt  Madge  to  write  a  fairy  story  about  it. 

Here  their  progress  in  useful  knowledge 
Was  cut  short  by  the  disappearance  of  Dotty. 


POJTHIE    TURNER.  163 

Looking  out  of  the  window,  they  saw  the 
little  rogue  driving  ducks  with  a  broomstick. 
These  ducks  had  a  home  not  far  from  Mrs. 
Parlin's,  and  if  Dotty  Dimple  had  one  temp- 
tation stronger  than  all  others,  it  was  the 
sight  of  those  waddling  fowls,  with  their 
velvet  heads,  beads  of  eyes,  and  spotted 
feathers.  When  she  saw  them  "  marshin.' 
along,"  she  was  instantly  seized  with  a  de- 
sire either  to  head  the  company  or  to  march 
in  the  rear,  and  set  them  to  quacking.  She 
was  bareheaded,  and  Susy  ran  down  stairs 
to  bring  her  into  the  house ;  and  that  was 
an  end  of  the  school  for  that  day.  Dotty 
Dimple  was  something  like  the  kettle  of 
molasses  which  Norah  was  boiling,  very 
sweet,  but  very  apt  to  boil  over :  she  needed 
watching. 

When  Norah's  candy  was  brought  up 
stairs,  the  little  girls  pronounced  it  ex- 
cellent. 


164  SISTER    SUSY. 

w  0,  dear,"  said  Flossy,  w  I  wish  our  girl 
was  half  as  good  as  Korah  !  I  don't  see  why 
Electa  and  Norah  ain't  more  alike  when  they 
are  own  sisters  !  " 

"  What  dreadful  girls  your  mother  always 
has  !  "  said  Susy ;  "  it's  too  bad  !  " 

"I  know  of  a  girl,"  said  Prudy,  "one 
you'd  like  ever'n,  ever  so  much,  Flossy ; 
only  you  can't  have  her." 

"Why  not?"  said  Flossy:  "my  mother 
would  go  hundreds  of  leagues  to  get  a  good 
girl.  Why  can't  she  have  her?  " 

"O,  'cause,  she's  dead!  It's  Norah's 
cousin  over  to  Ireland." 

They  next  played  the  little  game  of  guess- 
ing "  something  in  this  room,"  that  begins 
with  a  certain  letter.  Ruthie  puzzled  them 
a  long  while  on  the  initial  S.v  At  last  she 
said  she  meant  "scrutau"  (escritoire  or 
scmtoire) ,  pointing  towards  the  article  with 
her  finger. 


EUTHIE    TURNER.  165 

w  Why,  that's  a  writing-desk"  said  Susy. 
*  I  don't  see  where  you  learn  so  many  big 
words,  Kuthie." 

"  O,  I  take  notice,  and  remember  them," 
replied  Ruthie,  looking  quite  pleased.  She 
thought  Susy  was  praising  her. 

"Now  let  me  tell  some  letters,"  said 
Prudy. 

"L.  R.     She  lives  at  your  house,  Flossy." 

Nobody  could  guess. 

"Why,  I  should  think  that  was  easy 
enough,"  said  Prudy :  "  it's  that  girl  that 
lives  there ;  she  takes  off  the  covers  of 
your  stove  with  a  clothes-pin :  it's  '  Lecta 
Rosbornd.'  " 

The  little  girls  explained  to  Prudy  that 
the  true  initials  of  Electa  Osborne  would 
be  E.  O.,  instead  of  L.  R.  But  Prudy  did 
not  know  much  about  spelling.  She  had 
known  most  of  her  letters ;  but  it  was  some 


166  SISTEK   SUSY. 

time  ago,  and  they  had  nearly  all  slipped 
out  of  her  head. 

She  said,  often,  she  wished  she  could 
"  only,  only  read ; "  and  Susy  offered  to 
teach  her,  but  Mrs.  Paiiin  said  it  would 
never  do  till  Prudy  felt  stronger. 

I  will  tell  you  now  why  I  think  Susy  did 
not  understand  her  mother  when  she  saidi 
Annie  was  not  a  suitable  playmate.  In  tho 
evening,  after  Euthie  and  Flossy  were  gone, 
Susy  said  to  her  mother,  — 

"  I  feel  real  cross  with  Ruthie,  mamma  :  I 
think  she  puts  herself  forward.  She  goes 
into  a  room,  and  no  matter  how  old  the 
people  are  that  are  talking,  she.  speaks  up, 
and  says,  *  O,  yes,  I  know  all  about  it.  I 
never  saw  such  an  old-fashioned  little  girl." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Parlin ;  "if  she 
is  rude,  take  care  that  the  same  fault  does 
not  appear  in  yourself,  Susy." 


RUTHIE   TURNER.  167 

w  But,  mother,"  said  Susy,  suddenly  veer- 
ing about  and  speaking  in  Ruth's  favor,  "a. 
don't  know  but  it's  proper  to  do  as  Ruthy 
does.  If  you  know  something,  and  other 
people  don't,  ain't  it  right  to  speak  up  and 
say  it?" 

"  It  is  never  right  for  little  girls  to  mo^ 
nopolize  conversation,  Susy ;  that  is,  to  take 
the  lead  in  it,  and  so  prevent  older  people 
from  talking.  Neither  is  it  proper  to  pre- 
tend to  know  more  than  we  do,  and  talk 
of  things  beyond  our  knowledge." 

"I  knew  you  would  say  so,  mother.  I 
just  asked  to  hear  what  you  would  say.  I 
know  Ruthie  is  ill-mannered :  do  you  think 
I  ought  to  play  with  her  any  more  ?  " 

Mrs.  Parlin  looked  at  Susy  in  surprise. 

"Why,  you  know,  mother,  you  wouldn't 
let  me  play  with  Annie  Lovejoy.  You  said, 
'evil  communications  corrupted  good  man- 


168  SISTER   SUSY. 

"But  can't  you  see  any  difference  in  the 
cases,  Susy  ?  What  a  muddy  little  head  you 
must  wear  on  your  shoulders  !  " 

"  Not  much  of  any,"  said  Susy,  trying  to 
think;  "they're  both  bold;  that's  what  you 
don't  like." 

"Anything  else,  Susy?" 

"O,  yes,  mother ;  Euthie's  good,  and  Annie 
isn't.  It  was  queer  for  me  to  forget  that !  " 

"  I  should  think  it  was,  Susy,  since  it  is 
the  only  thing  of  much  importance,  after  all. 
Now,  it  seems  to  me  you  are  very  ready  to 
cast  off  your  friends  when  their  manners 
offend  you.  How  would  you  like  it  to  be 
treated  in  the  same  way?  Suppose  Mrs. 
Turner  and  Ruthie  should  be  talking  to- 
gether this  very  minute.  Ruthie  says, 
'That  Susy  Parlin  keeps  her  drawers  in 
a  perfect  tumble;  she  isn't  orderly  a  bit. 
Susy  Parlin  never  knit  a  stitch  for  the 


RUTHIE    TURNER.  169 

soldiers  in  her  life.  Mother,  mayn't  I  stop 
playing  with  Susy  Parlin  ?  '  " 

Susy  laughed,  and  looked  a  little  ashamed. 

"Well,  mother,"  said  she,  twisting  the 
corner  of  her  handkerchief,  w  I  guess  I  can't 
say  anything  about  Ruthie  Turner;  she's 
a  great  deal  better  girl  than  I  am,  any 
way." 


170  SISTER    SUSY. 


CHAPTEK   XI. 

SUSY'S    BIRTHDAY. 

DAYS  and  weeks  passed.  The  snow- 
flakes,  which  had  fallen  from  time  to  time, 
and  kept  themselves  busy  making  a  patch- 
work quilt  for  mother  Earth,  now  melted 
away,  and  the  white  quilt  was  torn  into 
shreds.  The  bare  ground  was  all  there 
was  to  be  seen,  except  now  and  then  a  dot 
of  the  white  coverlet.  It  was.  .Spring,  and 
everything  began  to  wake  up.  The  sun 
wasn't  half  so  sleepy,  and  Jidn't  walk  off 
over  the  western  hills  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  to  take  a  nap. 

The   sleighing  was  gone  long  ago.     The 


SUSY'S   BIKTHDAY.  171 

roads  were  dismal  swamps.  "  Wings  * 
would  have  a  rest  till  "  settled  £oin£." 

O  O 

Susy's  skates  were  hung  up  in  a  green 
baize  bag,  to  dream  away  the  summer. 

The  mocking-bird  performed  his  daily 
duties  of  entertaining  the  family,  besides 
learning  a  great  many  new  songs.  Susy 
said  she  tried  not  to  set  her  heart  on  that 
bird. 

"I'll  not  give  him  a  name,"  she  added, 
N  for  then  he'll  be  sure  to  die !  My  first 
canary  was  Bertie,  and  I  named  the  others 
Berties,  as  fast  as  they  died  off.  The  last 
one  was  so  yellow  that  I  couldn't  help 
calling  him  Dandelion  ;  but  I  wish  I  hadn't, 
for  then,  perhaps,  he'd  have  lived." 

Susy  had  caught  some  whimsical  notions 
about  <x  signs  and  wonders."  It  is  strange 
how  some  intelligent  children  will  believe 
in  superstitious  stories !  But  as  soon  as 


172  SISTER    SUSY. 

Susy's  parents  discovered  that  her  young 
head  had  been  stored  with  such  worse  than 
foolish  ideas,  they  were  not  slow  to  teach 
her  better. 

She  had  a  great  fright,  about  this  time, 
concerning  Freddy  Jackson.  He  was  one 
of  the  few  children  who  were  allowed  to 
play  in  "  Prudy's  sitting-room."  He  did  not 
distract  the  tired  nerves  of  "Rosy  Frances," 
as  her  cousin  Percy  and  other  boys  did,  by 
sudden  shouts  and  loud  laughing.  Prudy 
had  a  vague  feeling  that  he  was  one  of  the 
little  ones  that  God  thought  best  to  punish 
by  "snipping  his  heart."  She  knew  what 
it  was  to  have  her  heart  snipped,  and  had 
a  sympathy  with  little  Freddy. 

Susy  loved  Freddy,  too.  Perhaps  Percy 
was  right,  w^hen  he  said  that  Susy  loved 
everything  that  was  dumb ;  and  I  am  not 
sure  but  her  tender  heart  would  have 


SUSY'S   BIRTHDAY.  173 

warmed  to  him  all  the  more  if  he  had  been 
stone-blind,  as  well  as  deaf. 

Freddy  had  a  drunken  father,  and  a  sad 
home ;  but,  for  all  that,  he  was  not  entirely 
miserable.  It  is  only  the  wicked  who  are 
miserable.  The  kind  Father  in  heaven  has 
so  planned  it  that  there  is  something  pleas- 
ant in  everybody's  life. 

Freddy  had  no  more  idea  what  sound  is 
than  we  have  of  the  angels  in  heaven ;  but 
he  could  see,  and  there  is  so  much  to  be 
seen  !  Here  is  a  great,  round  world,  full 
of  beauty  and  wonder.  It  stands  ready  to 
be  looked  at.  Freddy's  ears  must  be  for- 
ever shut  out  from  pleasant  sounds ;  but 
his  bright  eyes  were  wide  open,  seeing  all 
that  was  made  to  be  seen. 

He  loved  to  go  to  Mrs.  Parlin's,  for  there 
he  was  sure  to  be  greeted  pleasantly;  and 
he  understood  the  language  of  smiles  as  well 
as  anybody. 


174  SISTER    SUSY. 

When  grandma  Read  saw  him  coming, 
she  would  say,  — 

"  Xow,  Susan,  thee'd  better  lay  aside  thy 
book,  for  most  likely  the  poor  little  fellow 
will  want  to  talk.9' 

And  Susy  did  lay  aside  her  book.  She 
had  learned  so  many  lessons  this  winter  in 
self-denial ! 

These  "  silent  talks "  were  quite  droll. 
Little  Dotty  almost  understood  something 
about  them ;  that  is,  when  they  used  the 
signs :  the  alphabet  was  more  than  she  could 
manage.  When  Freddy  wanted  to  talk  about 
Dotty,  he  made  a  sign  for  a  dimple  in  each 
cheek.  He  smoothed  his  hair  whe-n  he  meant 
Susy,  and  made  a  waving  motion  over  his 
head  for  Prudy,  whose  hair  was  full  of 
ripples. 

Prudy  said  she  had  wrinkled  hair,  and 
she  knew  it ;  but  the  wrinkles  "  wouldn't 
come  out." 


SUSY'S   BIRTHDAY.  175 

Grandma  Read  sat  one  evening  by  the 
coal-grate,  holding  a  letter  in  her  hand,  and 
looking  into  the  glowing  fire  with  a 
thoughtful  expression.  Susy  came  and  sat 
near  her,  resting  one  arm  on  her  grandma's 
lap,  and  trying  in  various  ways  to  attract 
her  attention. 

"Why,  grandma,"  said  she,  "I've  spoken 
to  you  three  times ;  but  I  can't  get  you  to 
answer  or  look  at  me." 

"  What  does  thee  want,  my  dear  ?  I  will 
try  to  attend  to  thee." 

"  O,  grandma,  there  are  ever  so  many 
things  I  want  to  say,  now  mother  is  out 
of  the  room,  and  father  hasn't  got  home. 
I  must  tell  somebody,  or  my  heart  will 
break  ;  and  you  know,  grandma  dear,  I  can 
talk  to  you  so  easy." 

"  Can   thee  ?      Then   go    on,    Susy ;   what 
would  thee  like  to  say?" 
12 


176  SISTER    SUSY. 

"  O,  two  or  three  things.  Have  you  no- 
ticed, grandma,  that  I've  been  just  as  sober 
as  can  be?" 

"For  how  long,  Susan?" 

"  O,  all  day ;  I've  felt  as  if  I  couldn't  but 
just  live  !  " 

Grandma  Read  did  not  smile  at  this. 
She  knew  very  well  that  such  a  child  as 
Susy  is  capable  of  intense  suffering. 

"  Well,  Susan,  is  it  about  thy  sister  Pru- 
dence ?  " 

"  O,  no,  grandma!  she's  getting  better; 
*  isn't  she  ?  " 

"Are  thy  lessons  at  school  too  hard  ior 
thee,  Susan?  " 

Mrs.  Read  saw  that  Susy  was  very  reluc- 
tant about  opening  her  heart,  although  she 
had  said  she  could  talk  to  her  grandmother 
*  so  easy." 

w  No,  indeed,   grandma ;   my  lessons   are 


SUSY'S   BIKTHDAY.  177 

not  too  hard.  I'm  a  real  good  scholar—- 
one of  the  best  in  school  for  my  age." 

This  was  a  fact.  Some  people  would  have 
chidden  Susy  for  saying  it ;  but  Mrs.  Read 
reflected  that  the  child  was  only  telling  the 
simple  truth,  and  had  no  idea  of  boasting. 
She  was  not  a  little  girl  who  would  intrude 
such  remarks  about  herself  upon  strangers. 
But  when  she  and  her  grandma  were  talk- 
ing together  confidentially,  she  thought  it 
made  all  the  difference  in  the  world;  as 
indeed  it  did. 

"  I  have  a  great  deal  to  trouble  me,"  said 
Susy,  and  the  "  evening-blue  "  of  her  eyes 
clouded  over,  till  there  were  signs  of  a 
shower.  "  I  thought  my  pony  would  make 
me  happy  as  long  as  I  lived ;  but  it  hasn't. 
One  thing  that  I  feel  bad  about  is — well,  it's 
turning  over  a  new  leaf.  When  New  Year's 
comes,  I'm  going  to  do  it,  and  don't;  so  I 


178  SISTER   SUSY. 

wait  till  my  birthday,  and  then  I  don't.  It 
seems  as  if  I'd  tried  about  a  thousand  New 
Years  and  birthdays  to  turn  over  that 
leaf." 

Grandma  smiled,  but  did  not  interrupt 
Susy. 

"  I  think  I  should  be  real  good,"  contin- 
ued the  child,  "  if  it  wasn't  such  hard  work. 
I  can't  be  orderly,  grandma — not  much; 
and  then  Dotty  upsets  everything.  Some- 
times I  have  to  hold  my  breath  to  keep 
patient. 

"Well,  grandma,  my  birthday  comes  to- 
morrow, the  8th  of  April.  I  like  it  well 
enough ;  only  there's  one  reason  why  I  don't 
like  it  at  all,  and  that  is  a  Bible  reason. 
It's  so  dreadful  that  I  can't  bear  to  say  it 
to  you,"  said  Susy,  shuddering,  and  lower- 
ing her  voice  to  a  whisper ;  "  I  don't  want  to 
grow  up,  for  I  shall  have  to  marry  Freddy 
Jackson." 


SUSY'S   BIRTHDAY.  179 

Grandma  tried  to  look  serious. 

"  Who  put  such  a  foolish  idea  into  thy 
head,  child?" 

"  Cousin  Percy  told  me  last  night,"  an- 
swered Susy,  solemnly.  "How  can  you 
laugh  when  it's  all  in  the  Bible,  grandma? 
I  never  told  anybody  before.  Wait ;  I'll 
show  you  the  verse.  I've  put  a  mark  at 
the  place." 

Susy  brought  her  Bible  to  her  grand-* 
mother,  and,  opening  it  at  the  thirty-first 
chapter  of  Proverbs,  pointed,  with  a  trem- 
bling finger,  to  the  eighth  verse,  which  Mrs. 
Kead  read  aloud,  — 

"Open  thy  mouth  for  the  dumb  in  the 
cause  of  all  such  as  are  appointed  to  de^ 
struction." 

"  Now  Percy  says  that's  a  sure  sign !  1 
told  him,  O,  dear !  Freddy  ought  to  marry 
a  dumb  woman ;  that  would  be  proper est; 


180  SISTER    SUSY. 

but  Percy  says  no  —  anything  has  got 
to  *  come  to  pass '  when  its  foreordina- 
tioned!" 

"  And  could  thee  really  believe  such  fool- 
ishness, my  sensible  little  Susan?  Does 
thee  suppose  the  good  Lord  ever  meant  that 
we  should  read  his  Bible  as  if  it  were  a 
wicked  dream-book?" 

"Then  you  don't  think  I  shall  have  to 
marry  Freddy  Jackson,"  cried  Susy,  im- 
mensely relieved.  "  I'm  so  glad  I  told 
you !  I  felt  so  sober  all  day,  only  nobody 
noticed  it,  and  I  was  ashamed  to  tell !  " 

"It  is  a  good  thing  for  thee  to  tell  thy 
little  troubles  to  thy  older  friends,  Susan: 
thee'll  almost  always  find  it  so,"  said  grand- 
ma Read,  stroking  Susy's  hair. 

"Now,  my  child,  I  have  a  piece  of  news 
for  thee,  if  thee  is  ready  to  hear  it :  thy 
cousin,  Grace  Clifford,  has  a  little  sister." 


SUSY'S   BIRTHDAY.  181 

"A  baby  sister?  A  real  sister?  Does 
mother  know  it?", 

"Yes,  thy  mother  knows  it." 

"  But  how  could  you  keep  it  to  yourself 
so  long  ?  " 

"Thee  thinks  good  news  is  hard  to  keep, 
does  thee?  Well,  thee  shall  be  the  first  to 
tell  thy  father  when  he  comes  home." 

Susy  heard  steps  on  the  door-stone,  and 
rushed  out,  with  the  joyful  story  on  her  lips. 
It  proved  to  be  not  her  father,  but  callers, 
who  were  just  ringing  the  bell ;  and  they 
heard  Susy's  exclamation,  — 

"O,  have  you  heard?  Grace  has  a  new 
sister,  a  baby  sister,  as  true  as  you  live ! " 
with  the  most  provoking  coolness. 

But  when  Mr.  Parlin  came,  he  was  suffi- 
ciently interested  in  the  news  to  satisfy 
even  Susy. 


182  SISTER  susr. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FAREWELL. 

PRUDY  was  really  getting  better.  Mrs 
Parlin  said  she  should  trust  a  physician 
more  next  time.  The  doctor  declared  that 
all  the  severe  pain  Prudy  had  suffered  was 
really  necessary. 

"  Believe  me,  my  dear  madam,"  said  he, 
"  when  the  poor  child  has  complained  most, 
she  has  in  fact  been  making  most  progress 
towards  health.  When  the  sinews  are  '  knit- 
ting together,'  as  we  call  it,  then  the  agony 
is  greatest." 

This  was  very  comforting  to  Mrs.  Parlin, 
who  thought  she  would  not  be  discouraged 


FAREWELL.  183 

so  easily  again ;  she  would  always  believe 
that  it  is  w  darkest  just  before  day." 

There  was  really  everything  to  hope  for 
Prudy.  The  doctor  thought  that  by  the  end 
of  three  months  she  would  walk  as  well  as 
ever.  He  said  she  might  make  the  effort 
now,  every  day,  to  bear  her  weight  on  her 
feet.  She  tried  this  experiment  first  with 
her  father  and  mother  on  each  side  to  sup- 
port her ;  but  it  was  not  many  days  before 
she  could  stand  firmly  on  her  right  foot,  and 
bear  a  little  weight  on  her  left  one,  which 
did  not  now,  as  formerly,  drag,  or,  as  she 
had  said,  "  more  than  touch  the  floor."  By 
and  by  she  began  to  scramble  about  on  the 
carpet  on  all  fours,  partly  creeping,  partly 
pushing  herself  along. 

It  was  surprising  how  much  pleasure 
Prudy  took  in  going  back  to  these  ways 
of  babyhood. 


184  SISTER    SUSY. 

Faint  blush  roses  began  to  bloom  in  her 
cheeks  as  soon  as  she  could  take  a  little 
exercise  and  go  out  of  doors.  Her  father 
bought  a  little  carriage  just  suitable  for  the 
pony,  and  in  this  she  rode  every  morning, 
her  mother  or  Percy  driving ;  for  Mrs.  Par- 
lin  thought  it  hardly  safe  to  trust  Susy  with 
such  a  precious  encumbrance  as  this  dear 
little  sister. 

She  had  been  willing  that  Susy  should 
manage  Wings  in  a  sleigh,  but  in  a  carriage 
the  case  was  quite  different ;  for,  though  in 
a  sleigh  there  might  be  even  more  danger 
of  overturning,  there  was  not  as  much 
danger  of  getting  hurt.  Indeed,  Susy's 
sleigh  had  tipped  over  once  or  twice  in 
turning  too  sharp  a  corner,  and  Susy  had 
fallen  out,  but  had  instantly  jumped  up 
again,  laughing. 

She  would  have  driven  in  her  new  car- 


FAREWELL.  185 

riage  to  Yarmouth  and  back  again,  or  per- 
haps to  Bath,  if  she  had  been  permitted. 
She  was  a  reckless  little  horsewoman, 
afraid  of  nothing,  and  for  that  very  reason 
could  not  be  trusted  alone. 

But  there  was  no  difficulty  in  finding  com- 
panions. Percy  pretended  to  study  book- 
keeping, but  was  always  ready  for  a  ride. 
Flossy  was  not  steady  enough  to  be  trusted 
with  the  reins,  but  Ruth  Turner  was  as 
careful  a  driver  as  need  be ;  though  Susy 
laughed  because  she  helcj.  the  reins  in  both 
hands,  and  looked  so  terrified. 

She  said  it  did  no  good  to  talk  with  Ruth 
when  she  was  driving ;  she  never  heard  a 
word,  for  she  was  always  watching  to  see 
if  a  carriage  was  coming,  and  talking  to 
herself,  to  make  sure  she  remembered  which 
was  her  right  hand,  so  she  could  "turn  to 
the  right,  as  the  law  directs." 


186  SISTER   SUSY. 

Prudy  enjoyed  the  out-of-doors  world 
once  more,  and  felt  like  a  bird  let  out  of 
a  cage.  And  so  did  Susy,  for  she  thought 
she  had  had  a  dull  season  of  it,  and  fully 
agreed  with  Prudy,  who  spoke  of  it  as  the 
"slow  winter." 

But  now  it  was  the  quick  spring,  the  live 
spring.  The  brooks  began  to  gossip ;  the 
birds  poured  out  their  hearts  in  song,  and 
the  dumb  trees  expressed  their  joy  in  leaves. 

"  The  bobolink,  on  the  mullein-stalk, 
Would  rattle  away  like  a  sweet  girl's  talk." 

The  frogs  took  severe  colds,  but  gave 
concerts  a  little  way  out  of  the  city  every 
evening.  The  little  flowers  peeped  up  from 
their  beds,  as  Norah  said,  "  like  babies  ask- 
ing to  be  took ;  "  and  Susy  took  them,  when- 
ever she  could  find  them,  you  may  be  sure, 
and  looked  joyfully  into  their  faces.  She 
could  almost  say, — 


FAREWELL.  187 

<l  And  'tis  my  faith  that  every  flower 
Enjoys  the  air  it  breathes." 

She  said,  "I  don't  suppose  they  know 
much,  but  perhaps  they  know  enough  to 
have  a  good  time :  who  knows  ? " 

Susy  took  long  walks  to  Westbrook,  and 
farther,  coming  home  tired  out,  but  loaded 
with  precious  flowers.  There  were  plenty 
of  friends  to  give  them  to  her  from  their 
early  gardens :  broad-faced  crocuses,  jon- 
quils, and  lilies  of  the  valley,  and  by  and 
by  lilacs,  with  "  purple  spikes." 

She  gathered  snowdrops,  "  the  first  pale 
blossoms  of  the  unripened  year,"  and  May- 
flowers, pink  and  white,  like  sea-shells,  or 
like  w  cream-candy,"  as  Prudy  said.  These 
soft  little  blossoms  blushed  so  sweetly  on 
the  same  leaf  with  such  old  experienced 
leaves !  Susy  said,  "  it  made  her  think  of 
little  bits  of  children  who  hadn't  any  mother, 
and  lived  with  their  grandDarents." 


188  SISTEK    SUSY. 

Dotty  was  almost  crazy  with  delight 
when  she  had  a  "new  pair  o'  boots,  and  a 
pair  o'  shaker,"  and  was  allowed  to  toddle 
about  on  the  pavement  in  the  sunshine. 
She  had  a  green  twig  or  a  switch  to  nourish, 
and  could  now  cry,  "  Hullelo !  "  to  those 
waddling  ducks,  and  hear  them  reply, 
"  Quack  !  quack  !  "  without  having  such  a 
trembling  fear  that  some  stern  Norah,  or 
firm  mamma,  would  rush  out  bareheaded, 
and  drag  her  into  the  house,  like  a  little 
culprit. 

It  was-  good  times  for  Dotty  Dimple,  and 
good  times  for  the  whole  family.  Spring 
had  come,  and  Prudy  was  getting  well. 
There  was  a  great  deal  to  thank  God  for ! 

It  is  an  evening  in  the  last  of  May.  A 
bit  of  a  moon,  called  "the  new  moon,"  is 
peeping  in  at  the  window.  It  shines  over 
Susy's  right  shoulder,  she  says.  Susy  is 


FAREWELL.  189 

reading,  Prudy  is  walking  slowly  across  the 
floor,  and  Dotty  Dimple  is  whispering  to 
her  kitty,  telling  her  to  go  down  cellar,  and 
catch  the  naughty  rats  while  they  are  asleep. 
When  kitty  winks,  Dotty  thinks  it  the  same 
as  if  she  said,  — 

"  I  hear  you,  little  Miss  Dotty :  I'm 
going." 

I  think  perhaps  this  is  a  good  time  to  bid 
the  three  little  girls  good  by,  or,  as  dear 
grandma  Read  would  say,  "Fare well  I" 


IHE  END. 


, 


1  i 


^E-UNIVER% 


cv 


006  750  571   9 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


'I  "1"  HIM  Hill  Hill  HIM  Illll  Hill  Hill  Illl  HI)  ^ 

B    000018725    2 

IJfY --•••"     * 


IJI1Y3-JO' 


